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SOCIAL PRINCIPLES 
OF EDUCATION 



BY 

GEORGE HERBERT BETTS, Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY IN CORNELL COLLEGE, IOWA 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1912 






Cop3'right, 1912, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 




fe,GI.Aa<i04l8 



TO MY WIFE 

THROUGH WHOSE HELP THE 

WRITING OF THE FOLLOWING PAGES 

WAS MADK POSSIBLE 



PREFACE 

Education is an ever-changing ideal; hence concepts 
of educational values and methods are in a state of con- 
stant reconstruction; and the aim of education must 
be progressively redefined. The direction of this recon- 
struction varies from age to age in accordance with the 
trend of thought. At one time education is valued for 
its contribution to religion; again, as a means of pre- 
paring a favored few for leisure or leadership; and at 
another time for its results in enlightenment, discipHne, 
or culture in the life of the individual. 

The present demand upon education, though but half 
defined in social consciousness, is that it shall relate 
itself immediately to the concrete and vital experience 
of all as they carry out the activities that constitute 
their Hfe-process. Such values as knowledge, culture, 
power, no longer satisfy the educational ideal; these 
must in some way combine to spell efficiency. Nor is 
this efficiency something fanciful or unreal, but rather 
the power and the will to become an active, helpful con- 
tributor to the social welfare of the present. Education 
is therefore a social function, and educational values are 

to be measured in terms of social efficiency. 

vii 



I 



viii PREFACE 

It is the purpose of this volume to formulate the social 
concept of education; to offer some help, however slight, 
toward bringing the social meaning of education more 
clearly to consciousness; to make a tentative statement 
of the social principles underlying the educational aim 
and process. Much work has been done in recent years 
in the field of the general principles of education. Dif- 
ferentiation has been working out until we now have a 
more or less clearly defined set of biological, psycholog- 
ical, and philosophical principles. The social principles 
of education have been less fully developed. Much good 
work has been done, but a complete and coherent state- 
ment has not yet been accomplished, if indeed such has 
been attempted. On the other hand, it is doubtful 
whether the material is yet available for anything Hke 
a full or final statement in this field. It will not be 
expected, therefore, that the present work will aim at 
completeness or finality. 

The plan of the volume is simple. The individual and 
society are conceived as the two fundamental elements in 
the educational process; hence their relations and the 
part each plays in the common life-process are discussed. 
Since all conscious evolution must be guided by pur- 
pose, the aim of education is next considered. The edu- 
cational aim is found to originate in and lead back to 
the social process. This necessitates an analysis of the 
social process to discover what demands the different 
social activities put upon education. But education 



PREFACE ix 

accomplishes its purpose only through changes wrought 
in the individual. It is necessary, therefore, to consider 
the powers and capacities of the individual which enable 
him to fit into the social process. Education works 
upon these powers and capacities in the course of their 
genetic development; so the mode of individual develop- 
ment is considered. The means that education employs 
in utiHzing the powers and capacities of the individual 
to fit him into the social process, and thereby to accom- 
plish the ideal relations between the individual and soci- 
ety are next to be sought. These are found to consist 
in the curriculum and the social organization of the school. 

Cornell College, 
Mount Vernon, Iowa, 
July, 191 2. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER . PAGE 

I. Introduction 3 

/. The Nature of Philosophy. — i. Its organizing function. 
2. Its various fields. 3. Its method. 

//. The Scope of the Present Work. — i. Limitations as to 
its scope. 2. Its purpose. 

PART I 

Educational Elements and Aim 
11. The Individual and Society t; 



/. The Interdependence of the Individual and Society. — i. 
Various concepts as to this relationship. 2. The individ- 
ualistic concept. 3. The socialistic concept. 4. The or- 
ganic concept. 5. The nature of the social bond. 

//. The Contributions of Society to the Individual. — i. 
Society supplies the individual with a medium for his 
development. 2. Society stimulates the individual to 
activity. 3. A set of organized activities provided by ' 
society. 4. Society sets before the individual criteria of 
conduct. 5. Social obligation to educate the individual. 

III. The Contributions of the Individual to Society. — i. 
The nature of the individual makes society possible. 2. 
The individual is the bearer of all social culture. 3. In- 
dividual initiative makes social progress possible. 4. 
The individual's obligation to attain social efficiency. 

III. Aim IN Education: Its Origin and Function 32 

/. The General Nature of Aim. — i. All progress depend- 
ent on change. 2. But change, to be progress, must be 
directed. 3. In the lower realms of being, the directive 
principle works from without. 4. But in man, teleology 
has become conscious and intelligent. 5. Ability to con- 

xi 



xii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER ^ ^ PAGE 

ceive an aim and select means for its attainment as a 
measure of stage reached in evolution. 

//, Ahn to Be Found Only in Experience. — i. Aim cannot 
be divorced from experience. 2. The nature of experi- 
ence. 3. Experience as a process. 4. Experience as a 
product. 5. The function of experience. 

///. Education as a Selective Agent in the Social Process. 
— I. The complexity of the social process makes some 
selective agent necessary. 2. Education rises out of the ' 
consciousness of aim, and as a means to its attainment. 
3. Organized and unorganized educational factors. 

IV. The Educational Aim but a Statement of the Social 
Progress Already Made. — i. The educational aim and the 
social aim identical. 2. The educational aim must there- 
fore be defined in terms of the social process. 3. The 
futility of educational aims conceived as outside the 
social process. 4. The tendency of social institutions to 
become divorced from the social aim. 

PART II 

The Social Process and Education 
IV. The Nature of the Social Process . . 51 

/. The Nature of the Social Process to Be Shown Either 
from the Social or the Individual Point of View. 

II. A Complete Interpretation of the Social Process In- 
volves Past, Present, and Future. 

III. An Outline View All that Is Required in the Present 
Study. 

V. Education and Institutional Modes of Ex- 
perience 55 

I. Institutions the Product of Social Evolution. — i. The 
nature of social institutions. 2. Institutions both the 
product and mode of social progress. 3. Individual ex- 
perience included within institutional activities. 

II. The Family and the Individual. — i. The nature of the 
family. 2. The fundamental relations in the home. 3. 
Recent social changes affecting the home as an educa- 



CONTENTS xlli 

CHAPTER PAGE 

tional factor. 4. Losses suffered by the home through 
these changes. 5. New demands placed upon the home 
relations. 6. The home included in the educational aim. 

///. The Community as an Educative Factor. — i. Social 
relationships afforded by the community. 2. Influences 
exerted by the community. 3. Decline of community 
life. 4. Obligations resting on the community as an ed- 
ucative factor. 

IV. The Church as a Social Institution. — i. The church 
and the religious concept. 2. The social programme of 
the church. 3. The church and general education, 4. 
The church and religious education. 5. The present 
opportunity of the church. 6. The educational aim as 
related to the church. 

V. The State and the Educational Aim. — i. The place of 
the state among social institutions. 2. The negative 
functions of the state. 3. The positive functions of the 
state. 4. Democracy and the individual. 5. Education 
and the foes of the state. 

VI. The School as the Instrument of Education. — i. The 
place of the school in the social process. 2. The measure 
of educational waste. 3. Sources of educational waste. 
4. The school as the complement of other educative agen- 
cies. 5. Bases of co-operation between the school and 
other institutions. 

VI. Education and Vocational Modes of Ex- 
perience 95 

/. Vocations as a Mode of Social Evolution. — i. Man is by 
nature a worker. 2. The origin of vocations. 3. The in- 
terrelations of the vocations as a social bond. 

II. The Industrial Vocations. — i. The fundamental na- 
ture of the industrial pursuits. 2. The industrial voca- 
tions late to be included in the educational aim. 3. The 
problem created by the division of labor. 

III. The Business Vocations. — i. The functions of the 
business vocations. 2. The relation of business to the 
industries. 3. The two-fold problem of the business 
vocations. 4. The business vocations as related to the 
educational aim. 



xiv CONTENTS 

CHAPTER ^AGE 

IV. The Technological Pursuits. — i. The relation of the 
technological pursuits to other vocations. 2. Contribu- 
tions of the technologist to social welfare. 3. The edu- 
cation of technological workers. 

F. The Scientific Pursuits. — i. The nature of the scien- 
tific pursuits. 2. The relation of the scientist to other 
workers. 3. Education for the scientific vocations. 

VI. The Professional Pursuits. — i. The rise of profes- 
sional pursuits. 2. The function of professional pur- 
suits. 3. The type of education required for profes- 
sional pursuits. 

VII. The Vocation of the Artist. — i. The social function 
of the artist. 2. The artist as a teacher. 3. Education 
and the art impulse. 

VII. Education and Avocation al Modes of Ex- 
perience 114 

/. The Place of Avocations in the Social Process. — i. 
Avocations as much a matter of social concern as voca- 
tions. 2. The physical necessity for avocations. 3. The 
mental necessity for avocations. 4. Social development 
through avocations. 5. The relation of avocations to 
moral development. 6. The relation of play and work. 

II. Classes of Avocations. — i. Difficulty of making such a 
classification. 2. The physical avocations. 3. Avoca- 
tions involving chiefly mental activities. 4. The social 
avocations. 5. Incidental avocations. 

///. The School and Its Avocations. — i. The school must 
meet the problem of avocations. 2. Avocations as a part 
of the school's activities. 3. Work must be the centre of 
the school's activities. 

PART III 

Socializing the Individual 

VIII. The Powers and Capacities of the Indi- 
vidual 133 

/. The Social Nature of Individual Powers and Capaci- 
ties. — I. The nature of the social process defined by the 
powers and capacities of the individual. 2. The powers 



CONTENTS XV 

CHAPTER PAGE 

and capacities of the individual the product of social par- 
ticipation. 

II. Capacities of the Individual for Impressions. — i. Im- 
pressions a fundamental biological necessity. 2. Scope 
of environment measured by capacity for impressions. 
3. Capacity for direct, or physical, impressions. 4. Ca- 
pacity for indirect, or social, impressions. 

III. Capacities for Interpretation. — ^i. The part played 
by interpretation in adaptation. 2. Interpretation in 
terms of knowledge, leading to the sciences. 3. Inter- 
pretation in terms of feeling, leading to appreciation of 
values. 

IV. Powers of Control. — i. Control the outcome of im- 
pression and interpretation. 2. Control over the self, 
leading to adjustment. 3. Control exercised through the 
physical. 4. Mental aspects of control over the self. 5. 
Control through the moral aspects of the self. 6. Con- 
trol over environment, leading to progress. 7. Mastery 
of environment through science and technique. 

IX. The Mode of Individual Development . . 192 

1. The General Nature of Development. — i. Development 
conditioned by the original nature of the individual. 2. 
The dependence of development on adequate stimuli. 3. 
One function of education is to supply stimuli. 

II. The Inherent Attributes of the Individual Influencing 
Development. — i. The individualistic nature of response. 

2. Plasticity the first requisite to development. 3. Self- 
activity defines the process of development. 4. Instincts 
and impulses the motives to activity. 5. Imitation, sug- 
gestion, and language determine the course of develop- 
ment. 6. The desire for self-realization a motive in later 
development. 

III. The Social Stimulus to Individual Development. — i. 
Response primarily individualistic, but the stimuli chiefly 
social. 2. The social points of contact with physical en- 
vironment. 3. Influence of the Zeitgeist in determining 
direction of development. 4. The unorganized sources 
of educational stimuli. 5. The organized sources of 
educational stimuli. 6. The function of the school to 
organize and present stimuli. 



xvi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

X. The Curriculum 231 

/. The Social Origin of the Curriculum. — i. The social 
evolution of culture and civilization. 2. The great mass 
of culture renders selection necessary. 3. The curricu- 
lum embodies the social ideal of culture values. 

II. The Function of the Curriculum. — i. The curriculum 
develops the social consciousness. 2. The curriculum 
provides stimuli leading to development. 3. Social ad- 
justment secured through the curriculum. 4. The con- 
cept of social efficiency versus that of discipline. 

///. The Content of the Curriculum. — i. The content of 
the curriculum determined by its function. 2. The 
growth of a broader curriculum. 3. The influence of 
tradition in determining the curriculum. 4. Professional 
influence in the curriculum. 5. The response of the cur- 
riculum to social demands. 6. The curriculum still dom- 
inated largely by disciplinary concept. 7. The present 
curriculum as related to social demands. 

IV. The Organization of the Curriculum. — i. The content 
of the curriculum social, but the organization, psycholog- 
ical. 2. The psychological versus the logical organiza- 
tion of the curriculum. 3. The social activities the basis 
of the organization of the curriculum. 4. The organiza- 
tion of the elementary curriculum. 5. The organization 
of the high-school curriculum. 

XI. The Social Organization of the School . 291 

I. The Social Nature of the School. — i. The school as a 
miniature society. 2., The principle of organization in- 
herent in the school. 

II. The Social Spirit of the School. — i. The importance 
of the pupil's attitude toward the school. 2. The lack 
of unity between pupils and school. 3. Educational 
waste through lack of unity. 4. The source of disunity 
to be found in the organization of the school. 5. The 
intellectual and the social organization of the school. 

///. The Organization of the Elementary School. — i. The 
continuous nature of experience. 2. Relations between 
home experience and school experience. 3. Factors af- 
fecting continuity of experience between home and school. 



CONTENTS xvii 



PAGE 



4. Loss in efficiency through placing too many children 
under one teacher. 5. Points of contact between parents 
and school, 6. The school as an intellectual and social 
centre for the community. 

IV. The Organization of the High School. — i. Principles 
of social organization that apply both to elementary and 
high school. 2. The school not to prepare for life, but 
a place to live. 3. The problems of high-school organi- 
zation grow out of the psychology of adolescence. 4. 
The attitude of the adolescent toward conduct and au- 
thority. 5. The organization of personal control of con- 
duct. 6. Problems growing out of the social relations 
of the sexes. 7. Social efficiency the aim of the social 
as well as the intellectual organization of the high school. 

Index 315 



SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



SOCIAL PEINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTION 

The problem of philosophy is to bring to light new 
and more profound meanings. Philosophy seeks to find 
in the world as a whole a broader and richer 
moZtr'^ significance through discovering the ulti- 
mate and vital relations which exist among 
its parts. It tries so to organize and unify experience 
that it may possess the richest and fullest reahty pos- 
sible. Philosophy attempts to fit part to part in the 
great mosaic of creation, confident that the meaning of 
the whole and of each part will appear when the pattern 
is complete. 

The scope of philosophy is, therefore, as broad as the 
universe; its limits are set only by the reach of the mind 
in its search for truth. Hence philosophy 
pWiosophy.°^ must enter every field known to man; 
nothing is foreign to its interest, and noth- 
ing too trivial or too important for its consideration. 
And when philosophy shall have fulfilled its task, we shall 
have a special philosophy for each particular field: a 
philosophy of history, of poKtics, of religion, of science, 
of education, and as many other fields as there are divi- 
sions of human activity; we shall also have a general 
philosophy showing the interrelations among these fields, 



4 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

and organizing them into one great unity. The method 
of philosophy is the same in each of the many fields it 
enters: it seeks to relate the parts of the field to each 
other, and to relate the special field to the larger whole. 
Applying this method to education, the philosophy of 
education seeks the true meaning of education by defining 
its elements, and discovering its place in that larger whole 
which we call the social process. 

The plan of the present work does not include a com- 
plete philosophy of education, which would require a 
discussion of the relations and meaning of 
present work. ^ education in each of its many aspects, such 
as the biological, the psychological, the his- 
torical, and the social. Our purpose is rather the nar- 
rower and more immediate one of discovering and apply- 
ing the philosophical principles underlying the last of 
these fields, the social aspect of education. It must be 
kept in mind, however, that education is primarily a 
unity in actual experience, and that these different 
phases do not exist apart. They are separated only for 
purposes of discussion and emphasis. In the following 
pages, therefore, constant reference will be made to the 
biological, the psychological, and the historical factors 
in education, but always with reference to their bearing 
upon its social aim and significance. 



PART I '.:....' -*. 

EDUCATIONAL ELEMENTS AND AIM 

CHAPTER II 

THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY. 

The fundamental terms with which the social princi- 
ples of education have to deal are two, the individual and 
society. It is through the interrelations of 
and sodety ?he ^^^ individual and society that the necessity 
fundamental for education arises, and that education is 
e?^ation. made possible. For if individuals did not 

constitute an organized society; if each 
person lived encased in an impenetrable shell of self- 
sufficiency; if there were no bond uniting all together 
in one common set of activities and one common des- 
tiny; if there were no common ideal toward which all 
are striving — then there would be no need for education. 
For the need for education arises at the points where 
life touches life in social activities, and the subject- 
matter of education has its origin in the solution of 
these social problems. Since the problem of education 
is the problem of the interrelations of the individual 
and society, it will be well at the outset of our study 
to consider something of the nature and relations of 
these factors. . 



SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



/. Interrelations of the Individual and Society 
_ , . , . Various concepts of the relation of the in- 

Relationship ,..11 1 . 1 ^ > ^ it 

between the dividual and socicty have obtained at dii- 
individuai and ferent times. The relative importance of 
one or the other has been emphasized as 
the socialistic or the individualistic view has happened to 
prevail in the thought of the time. 

The individualistic concept holds that the individual is 
the ultimate and all-important factor in the relationship, 
^jjg His interests are supreme, and his rights 

" individual- are higher than the rights of society. Soci- 
istic concep . ^^^ -^ -^^^ ^^ "aggregation of individuals," 

with the emphasis on individuals. There is no such thing 
as common good when it comes into conflict with in- 
dividual liberty. Such a society lacks a unifying bond or 
organizing element to hold it together, and hence cannot 
endure. Historically the individualistic concept has 
been of great service in emphasizing and establishing the 
dignity and worth of individual personality. But, carried 
to its logical outcome, this concept gives us as its sequel 
a group of victorious and blood-crazed French Revolution- 
ists turning and rending each other when they have tri- 
umphed over their foe. It is impossible permanently to 
base a society on an individualistic concept, for the out- 
come of such a relationship of the individual and society 
can only be anarchy and dissolution. 

The socialistic'^ concept in its most extreme form leads 
to the view that "man is a mere abstraction, and there 
is nothing real but humanity." If a conflict should occur 

^The term "socialistic" is here used as the opposite of "individualis- 
tic," and with no other meaning. 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 7 

between the immediate interests of the individual and so- 
ciety, the individual must give way. The individual does 
<j«jjg not count as against the interests of society, 

" socialistic " and he has no rights which society is bound, 
concep . j^g^ because they are his, to respect. If 

society demands that the child shall be taken from home 
at the age of seven years and trained only in the calling 
of a soldier, the individual has no choice but to submit 
— and Sparta is the result. If that more powerful part 
of society Kving on a higher social plane wills that the 
weaker who live on a lower social plane shall be made 
slaves, in order to give wealth and leisure to the higher 
and more powerful, then the interests and welfare of 
the enslaved are not to be taken into account. 

In its less extreme form, the socialistic concept does 
not so ruthlessly sacrifice the individual. The interests 
A modified form ^^ socicty Still comc first, but it is recog- 
of the sociaiis- nized that society can secure its own in- 
c concep . terests without trampling on those of the 
individual. In this modified concept, the interests of 
the individual and society are not wholly common, but 
they are not as a rule antagonistic. Society begins to 
consider the individual; he is taking on a value in his 
own right. He is now educated by society chiefly be- 
cause the welfare of society demands it, but also in some 
degree because it is good for the individual. He is pun- 
ished when he becomes an offender primarily for the 
protection of society, but also in the hope that it may do 
the individual himself some good. The interests of the 
two are not yet felt to be identical. Two distinct and 
relatively independent orders do exist: the social order 
which must in all cases prevail, and the individual order 
which must always give way at the points of conflict. 



8 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

No social organization based on this false concept of 
the relationship of the individual and society can finally 
The socialistic succeed. Such an element of strain in their 
concept inade- relations must prove fatal to the develop- 
quate. ^^^^ ^f ^^^j^^ While it is true that society 

must seek to promote the common welfare, yet this must 
include the welfare of every individual. For there is an 
individuality in all men, high and low, that has its rights, 
and that must be held sacred by society. The individ- 
ual has in him the seeds of personal freedom, and must 
finally come to his own. Universal democracy covering 
the whole range of social relationships must ultimately 
prevail, else man is a craven and civilization a failure. 

Plato saw clearly the fallacy of both the individuahstic 

and the sociaKstic concept, and their fallacy has been 

more fully exposed in the writings of 

No real conflict jjo^^es, Spenccr, and many other philoso- 

between inter- 7 r- 7 ^ n* j. -u 

ests of society phers. There can be no real conilict be- 
Itdu^^'''^'' tween the interests of the individual and 
the interests of society. When there is 
seeming conilict it is either because the interests of one 
or the other are not understood, or else there is failure in 
adjustment between the two. 

The reahzing of this truth has led to the development 
of the organic concept of the relation of the individual 
and society. Plato conceived society as an 
co^nce' t'^^^'"^ " organism, and individuals as organs or mem- 
bers of the social body. Spencer has carried 
this biological analogy out in great detail in his social 
philosophy. The analogy is very attractive, and the 
concept has been useful in emphasizing the indentity 
of interests between society and the individual, and the 
community of interests between individuals. With this 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 9 

concept in mind it is easy to understand that if we are 
members one of another, then one member cannot suffer 
without the others suffering with it; or, presenting 
another phase of the same truth, that 

"All are needed by each one; 
Nothing is fair or good alone." 

Nevertheless, a danger, or at least an inadequacy, 
lurks in the biological concept of the relations of the in- 
Dangerofpush- dividual and society. For in the biological 
ing the organic organism the separate organs do not pos- 
anaiogy too far. g^^^ ^-^^ inherent power of activity and self- 
direction; the organs or members do not develop into 
persons; they respond blindly and without intelligence to 
stimuli which they cannot control or resist. Society, on 
the other hand, is constituted of self-conscious and at 
least partially self-directive individuals, each with a per- 
sonality striving for development and expression, and 
each a functional element in a larger functional whole. 

Viewed from the dynamic standpoint, society is not a 
thing, but a process. The social process is made up of the 
Society more ^^^^ proccss of all the individuals constitut- 
than the sum of ing society — all the thoughts, the feeHngs, 
Its parts. ^1^^ activities of the participants in the great 

complex that we call the day's life. But the social proc- 
ess is something more than a mere aggregate of the life- 
processes of individuals. For the lives of individuals do 
not run along like so many parallel streams, each un- 
touched by the other. There is a constant interplay of 
hfe upon life, a constant interlinking of destiny to des- 
tiny, a constant interlocking of force to force until the 
currents of the great social stream are all woven together 



10 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

like a great network of capillaries. And, just as an ani- 
mal is more than the sum of its organs, because through 
them it has life, so society is more than the sum of its 
individuals, because out of their interrelations it has 
spirit, life — Zeitgeist. 

This Zeitgeist is more than an expression of the life or 
spirit of society; it is in turn an organizing, unifying 
Necessity for f actor, tending to bind society together and 
an organizing to mould individuals after one common so- 
*^*°^' cial purpose. For society does not just 

happen to hold together in the working out of a common 
social life and purpose, any more than the particles of 
the earth merely happen to stick together instead of fly- 
ing separately out into space. Each requires an integrat- 
ing, organizing force suited to the requirements of its 
own particular realm. The result of this unifying social 
force is an organic society, whose watchwords are unity 
and progress. 

The bond which holds society together in one unitary 
process is not homogeneous and simple, but is marvel- 
The social lously complex. It has its rise in the mul- 

bond a subjec- tipHcity of interrelations at all the mul- 
tive principle, ^.^j^ ^^j^^^ ^^^^^ jjj^ touches Hfe in the 

social process. The unifying bond comes from within, 
and not from without; it is implanted in the nature of 
man, and not forced upon him as an afterthought. It 
is not, therefore, governments, nor armies, nor such nat- 
ural barriers as mountains or oceans, that hold society 
together; but rather an organizing, teleological, sub- 
jective principle working in the individual. This prin- 
ciple expresses itself more or less blindly in the earlier 
stages of social development, and has not even yet risen 
fully to consciousness in man. 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 11 

Various attempts have been made to discover the nat- 
ure of this social bond, and to formulate it under one 
comprehensive term. Some have conceived 
fodi'bond^^ force as the great unifying principle; peo- 
ple are held together only because of the 
strong hand of those in power over them. Others have 
said that it is economic necessity; man cannot success- 
fully cope with the forces of nature and secure for him- 
self a living from the earth except in co-operation with 
other men. Others look upon religion as the tie that 
binds all together; the thought of an overruling provi- 
dence and our common dependence and common des- 
tiny weld us into a unity. Others say that thought is the 
great bond; we are held together by the fact that we 
conceive our world in its meanings and realities, and our 
relations to them in the same light. Others have made 
very plausible the claims of like-mindedness as the unify- 
ing element; it is the fact that we are alike, the fellow 
feeling that comes from being '^members one of another," 
that holds us together. Still others advocate the thought 
of a common good as the welding force; there is a com- 
mon element somewhere in the nature of men, a com- 
mon "good" conceived by each as the coveted goal to- 
ward which all are striving, and man has in him enough 
of divinity to impel him to service and sacrifice for others, 
that all together may attain the goal. 

To which of these views shall we hold? Is it true that 

there is one great integrating force in society which is 

so much stronger than all other unifying 

The social bond r --i , ♦, t_ i ^ j r ,^ 

a complex. lorces that it can be selected from among the 

others as the most fundamental? Is there 

a keystone to the social structure which, if withdrawn, 

will cause the whole to tumble? We shall probably be 



12 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

nearer the truth if we say that all the forces mentioned, 
and many others besides, are fundamental to social 
unity. The social process is so complex, and life touches 
life at so many points, that no single bond could tie 
millions of individual Hfe processes up into one great co- 
herent social stream; it must rather be a network of 
forces, each exerting its influence upon the individuals 
to whom this force most appeals. 

For not all individuals are equally influenced by social 
forces. What may serve to draw one into the social proc- 
ess as a contributor to the general welfare 
sodaibond^ may leave another untouched. Beyond 
varies for doubt there are individuals whose hand 

peoples!^ ^^^ would be against society were it not for 
the fear of force. There are others who co- 
operate chiefly from economic necessity. Others are ap- 
pealed to by religion; others by the feeling of like-mind- 
edness; and still others by the ideal of a common good. 
Not only does this truth hold for individuals, but for 
societies as well. Indeed, it is probable that each of the 
forces mentioned has been the chief force in turn at dif- 
ferent stages of social development; and all are in some 
degree operative in any organized society. Without at- 
tempting to arrange these forces in a hierarchy, it is evi- 
dent to all who accept the spiritual as the highest form 
of evolution in man, that force and economic necessity 
belong to a lower stage of social development than like- 
mindedness and the ideal of a common good. The social 
bond is itself a product of social evolution, and hence of 
necessity keeps pace with the progress of society. 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 13 



//. The Contribution of Society to the Individual 

The individual and society are but the two aspects of 
one great unitary fact. This fact is life; and Hfe is not a 
The life-process ^^ing, but a process. The Hfe-process may 
the funda- be viewed from either one of its two aspects, 
men a ac . ^j^^ individual or the social. The millions 
of individual Hfe-processes unite, intermingle, and play 
upon each other to produce the social process; the social 
process includes, moulds, and gives significance to the life- 
process of the individual. While there is, therefore, but 
the one great central fact of Hfe, sweeping on in its end- 
less generations, these two aspects do exist, and the life- 
process can best be described in certain of its aspects 
from the individual standpoint, and in others from the 
social. Let us now proceed to consider some of the social 
influences most important in shaping the life of the in- 
dividual. What are the chief contributions of society to 
the individual? 

Society supplies the medium in which the individual 
develops. The old problem of the priority of the hen 
or the egg has had for its philosophical 
medhim in * descendant the question of the primacy of 
which the society or the individual. But, fortunately 

develops! ^^^ ^^^ present study, we do not need to 

solve this insoluble riddle. For it will be 
granted that organized society, with its specialized ac- 
tivities, its multiplicity of institutions, its traditions and 
standards, does not exist prior to individual activity, but 
is rather the product of it. But, on the other hand, for 
any particular individual, society exists first. For the 
individual at birth finds himself in a society already or- 



14 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

ganized and carrying on its multiform activities. The 
very family of which he is a member is social rather than 
biological in its 'origin and nature. Social conventions 
surround his birth, give him his name, dictate his dress, 
determine how he shall eat, select the language he shall 
speak, and specify the nature of his education. He con- 
forms to social standards set up before he was born, 
shapes his views in accordance with a rehgious creed he 
did not make, chooses among political principles already 
formulated, and selects a vocation from among many or- 
ganized Hues of activity. He follows the social customs 
in wooing his mate, is married by whatever form of cere- 
mony society dictates, and is finally buried in accord- 
ance with social traditions. In fact, he does as other 
people do because that is the natural way and the best 
way to do. Society touches his Hfe at every point, 
prodding him to activity here, restraining him there, 
providing him with opportunity, and loading him with 
responsibiHty, rewarding him, punishing him, and sup- 
plying him with a whole system of checks and balances. 
The individual could no more live his Hfe outside the 
medium of society than he could outside the medium of 

air. 

Society stimulates the individual to activity. The mo- 
tive power which drives to activity and worthy achieve- 
Societ acts (2) ^^^^ exists within the individual, but the 
as a^stimuius clutch is thrown on by social forces. Men 
to activity. j^^g^ i^g paced if they are to reach the limit 

of their powers. None would come to their best, and 
few even to mediocre, achievement were it not for the 
pressure of necessity. 

One of the most immediate and pressing forms of ne- 
cessity is the economic, the necessity of securing food, 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 15 

shelter, and clothing. The great part that this form of 
necessity has played in man's progress may be seen from 
The pressure ^^^ peoples who have been left hopelessly 
of necessity behind in social evolution because of the 
require . absence of its pressure. The peoples of the 

tropics are inferior to those of the temperate zones prob- 
ably far less from a difference in original powers and 
capacities than because nature has been so generous in 
food and climatic conditions in the tropics that the 
powers and capacities of the individual have not been 
demanded in the struggle for existence, and hence have 
lain dormant. Economic necessity does not, however, 
go far enough as an incentive. It serves to lift man 
above savagery, but, unaided by other motives, would 
leave him stranded near the level of barbarism. 

It is at this point that social incentives begin to ex- 
ert their pressure. Man comes to discover that the Hfe 

is more than meat and the body more 
fodd stimtSus. t^an raiment. Working, striving, suffering 

shoulder to shoulder with other men, man's 
social consciousness has its birth. He not only must 
have enough to eat and wear, and a shelter to keep him 
warm, but he must have standing in the eyes of his 
brother man. He covets the approval of public opinion; 
he is eager for the honors and rewards which society 
stands ready to bestow upon him; he seeks to make a 
name for himself which will endure in the social memory. 
Or, again, he may feel the call of a great social need and 
achieve his own greatness through self-sacrifice and ser- 
vice. Man reaches his best only through striving to min- 
ister to his fellow man's greatest need, or through striv- 
ing to make himself worthy the rewards which his fellow 
man gives him in return for his service. Separated from 



16 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the stress of social activities the individual would never 
^'find himself." His powers would remain dormant 
within him from lack of a motive to use them. The 
richer and more diversified, therefore, the social ac- 
tivities and relationships which the individual finds 
pressing upon him, the greater is the stimulation of 
his own powers, and hence the fuller their develop- 
ment. 

Examples of the power of these social incentives are 
seen in men's thirst for power, which is valued, after all, 
chiefly because it focuses public attention 
ciai^ncentives." ^^^ esteem on its possessor. Men will fight, 
sacrifice, die, for power. This is not for the 
love of power in itself, but because society has stamped 
a high value on power through giving honor and rewards 
to those who achieve it. Men, therefore, take society's 
appraisement of the worth of power, and, under the 
stimulus of this social incentive, achieve results both for 
themselves and society which would have been impossible 
without the help of such a social stimulus. 

The individual is also constantly under the pressure of 
social necessity as regards his standard of living. The 
standards set up by those of the social plane 
pr^stige!^" upon which one lives are practically bind- 
ing upon him. To maintain his position 
and prestige he must come up to the required level 
no matter what the cost. For this reason standards 
of living, except for those of the lowest social planes, 
often have very little relation to the actual require- 
ments of comfort and well-being. People come to care 
far less whether their clothes are comfortable, their 
houses homelike and convenient, and their food nutri- 
tious and healthful, than whether in these things they 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 17 

are maintaining as high a standard as other people of 
the same social plane. So strong is the social stimulus in 
this direction that an artificial emulation is set up which 
often provokes overstrain and financial worry, and al- 
ways results in economic waste. 

After the inost immediate bodily wants have been sup- 
phed, it is, therefore, the activities and achievements of 
Social emuia- Others that constitute our strongest in- 
tion leads to centivc to effort. The individual feels that 
he must catch step with his generation. 
The mere example of progress and success is a constant 
spur to personal endeavor. We strive to increase our 
wealth not more because we need the money than be- 
cause we note that our neighbor's fortune is growing. We 
go to school not alone because we aspire to an education, 
but also because we see others securing an education, and 
we feel that we must not be left behind. New books are 
written, new scientific discoveries made, and new inven- 
tions worked out not solely because of the creative im- 
pulse stirring within us, but partly because other scholars 
and inventors are doing these things, and we must keep 
up. Our churches are built and our philanthropies sup- 
ported not wholly from love of our brother man, but 
partly because it is in the spirit of the age to do these 
things, and individuals, therefore, respond with their 
help. In these and many other activities the individual 
is caught in the onward sweep of social progress, and he 
has no choice but to exert his powers to the utmost if he 
would not be left hopelessly behind in the race. It is only 
under the pressure of such social necessity that man 
reaches the limit of his powers. 

The individual owes a great debt to society for pro- 
viding him with a set of organized activities. Without 



18 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

this help he would be like primitive man, who, perforce, 
felt his way blunderingly, groping for the best ways to 
expend his energies so as to secure from 
v^dlf (3) a"set them the greatest returns. But no one 
of organized had blazed the way; activities were as yet 
activities. unorganized, and early man was obHged 

to learn in the hard school of experience how and what 
to do or not do. He was an explorer in a strange land, 
without chart or compass. jNo wonder he often made 
mistakes and lost his way. 

The individual who, at birth, enters a well-organized 

society, with its various modes of activity thoroughly 

dvanta e formulated, has an incalculable advantage 

of'tiie hTdivld! over his brother man of an earHer social 

uai of to-day. ^j.^. f^j. ^ j^j-gg p^rt of the experimenting 

has been done. ' The crudest of our blunders and the 
most costly of our mistakes havelDeen made; they have 
taught their lesson, and will not again be repeated. The 
various fields of human activity have been thoroughly^ 
explored and charted, and signs of '^ danger" or "clear 
track" set up here and there. We have given a fair trial 
to feudahsm and slavery, and have discarded them as 
failures; we have given up burning witches and those who 
do not agree with us in theology; justice is no longer 
determined through a trial of the accused by ''ordeal"; 
and we are even losing our faith in war as a method of 
, settling disputes. 

Primitive man, lacking organized activities, was obhged 
to supply all his needs through his own industries; but 

Social ori n ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^' ^^^ ^^" 

of°orgaSSd ciety has organized a complex system^ of 
activities. industries based on the principle of divi- 

sion of labor; and the various well-defined vocations are 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 19 

the result. Bartering for the exchange of commodities 
was found to be an unsatisfactory method, hence money 
was invented and great commercial systems built up. 
After much experimentation it was found that the 
monogamous family is the type of relationship between 
the sexes best suited to individual and social develop- 
ment. Man's religious impulse failed to find satisfactory 
expression and development except in connection with 
other lives moved by similar impulses; and the institu- 
tion which we call the church came into existence. In a 
similar way we came by the state, the school, and all the 
other social institutions which the individual finds ready 
at hand and inviting his participation. 

It is true that all organized modes of activity are con- 
stantly changing in progressive societies; yet, such as 

The individual ^^^Y ^^^ ^^ ^^Y given time, they represent 
adopts social the aggregate wisdom of society as to the 
usages. j^^g^ ^^^ most fruitful way for the indi- 

vidual to set about his life activities irf these various 
lines. Equipped with the instinct of imitation, and pos- 
sessing the power to receive and act upon social sugges- ^ 
tion, the individual may reap the advantage of all the 
experience of his race without even taking the trouble to 
learn it through history or tradition. All he needs to do 
is to take up his life activities as he finds them ready for 
him in the greater social process of which his life forms 
a part. Jt is in this way that social progress is made pos- 
sible and that man is able to cHmb toward a goal that 
is constantly mounting upward. Each generation can 
use the achievements of all former generations as step- 
ping stones; each individual is endowed with all the best 
methods man has discovered for using his energies and 
his opportunities.' 



20 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Society supplies the individual with criteria of con- 
duct. The individual is by nature neither moral nor 
Society (4) immoral; he is simply unmoral. It is only 
moulds in the midst of social activities that oppor- 

con uct. tunities for decision and choice arise which 

enable the individual to develop into a moral being. The 
first acts of the child are wholly individuaHstic, having 
their origin and their end both in the self. Though such 
acts are stimulated by the social environment, the social 
motive plays no part in their performance. But, Httle 
by little, through social activities there comes about a 
kind of "natural selection" among the impulses and 
tendencies of the individual. Certain acts are "fit" so- 
cially, and hence society rewards them with its approval, 
and they become fixed as habits in the individual. Other 
acts do not coincide with social standards and traditions, 
and hence are frowned upon by society; these the indi- 
vidual has a tendency to drop out, and they do not come 
to function as habit. The persistence of some acts as a 
part of a system of conduct, and the failure of others to 
survive, are thus largely determined by their adaptability 
to fit into the social purpose. By this means social life 
supplies the individual with a whole set of checks and 
balances by which to judge his impulses and achieve- 
ments. In a complex society there is no limit to the 
criteria for judgment and discrimination supplied the 
individual by social attitudes and conditions. 

Nor does this mean that the individual is to be merely 
a puppet in the hands of society, taking his cue for con- 

The individual ^^^^ wholly from SOcial Standards and de- 
element in mands, and possessing no independence of 
con uc . judgment and initiative on his own account. 
On the contrary, the first condition for the development 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 21 

of moral power is freedom for reflective thought and per- 
sonal initiative on the part of the individual. He must 
be free to criticise social standards, and to propose and 
seek to put into practice for himself and others better 
ones. But even so, this can best be accomplished by 
building on the moral achievements already accomplished 
by society. The moral order of all progressive societies 
is far above that of the individual were he left to develop 
according to the bent of his own individualistic tenden- 
cies without the influence of the social moral order bear- 
ing upon him. In all the years of their striving, men have 
learned some moral lessons so thoroughly that they have 
become a part of the social fibre. They have come to 
see, however dimly, that the ideal of a common good is 
fundamental both to individual development and to so- 
cial progress. They have learned to check certain ten- 
dencies and to encourage others. They have put the 
social taboo upon some practices and the stamp of social 
approval upon others. Out of the collective lessons of 
social experience have come some moral sanctions that 
are no longer open to question. These society puts at 
the disposal of the individual. These the individual, 
through imitation, makes the basis of his personal moral 
programme. In this way he is saved the necessity of 
discovering for himself what society has been ages in 
finding out, and is thus able in the moral order, as in the 
intellectual or the industrial order, to begin where the 

race has left off 

Social and ^ distinction may, therefore, be made 

individual between social morality and individual mo- 

moraiity. rality. In so far as the individual accepts 

uncritically, through imitation and suggestion, the moral 
standards and practices of society, they are not for him 



22 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

moral at all, since they involve no choice on his part. 
Just as soon, however, as he subjects the moral stand- 
ards of society to critical examination, and accepts or 
rejects these standards with reference to his own con- 
duct, he is developing a personal morality. When the 
individual conceives the necessity for modifying the 
moral standards of society, and adopts new standards 
for himself and secures their adoption by society, he is 
instituting moral reform, which is but another name for 
social reform. If the new moral standards adopted are 
better than the old ones which they displaced, the result 
has been progress both for the individual and society. 
Both individual moral power and social morality are 
achieved by a reconstruction of the existent moral order 
of society through reflective thought and judgment of 
individuals. That is to say, progressive morality is the 
result of social evolution, and not of creative fiat. The 
moral principle exists in the nature of the individual, but 
it is brought to consciousness and development only 
through social participation, 

///. The Contribution of the Individual to Society 

But while society makes so great a contribution to the 
individual, this does not mean that society is always the 
The individual Contributor and the individual always the 
must pay Ws recipient. In the first place, this would be 
e t to society, fun^^jnentally impossible. For society, in 
its constituent elements, consists only of individuals, 
and hence has nothing to give which does not originate 
in the individual. The law of compensatory action works 
as relentlessly in the social realm as in the mechanical. 
It is not "earth" alone that "gets its price for what 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 23 

earth gives us.'' Society, in the end, receives its full re- 
turn for what it expends on the individual. This must of 
necessity be the case, else society would soon be a bank- 
rupt in culture, and civilization would wane and decay. 
Further, the individual who seeks his own fullest de- 
velopment as a personality has no choice but to repay 
his debt to society; for the interests and 
development activities of the individual and society are 
demands gQ indissolubly linked together that the in- 

social return. . . , 

dividual can successfully use the gifts which 
society so freely bestows upon him only as he em- 
ploys them as a contributor to social welfare. He can 
fully reahze upon his own powers and capacities only 
as a participant in the social activities of his day. He 
can attain to the highest good as an individual only 
as he seeks the highest good of all. iHe reaches his own 
largest success and richest personal development only 
through service to otherl] 

Thus, through the working of an inevitable law, the 
individual, in the very process of his own self-realization, 
Society receives ^^^st fuUy liquidate his obligation to so- 
interest on its ciety. More than this, society receives, on 
inves en . ^^^ whole, good interest on its investment; 
for it is out of this interest, compounded through the 
generations, that social progress is made possible. Each 
generation, before it passes from the stage of action, adds 
its modicum to the sum total of human attainment, leav- 
ing society so much the richer for its contribution. Fail- 
ing in this, the individuals have not only failed to repay 
their debt to society, but have also of necessity failed in 
self-realization. 

We will now notfe a few of the different phases of the 
individual's contribution to society. 



24 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

The nature of the individual makes society possible. 
Society is more than an aggregate of some millions or 
„ . . , , billions of individuals scattered, so many 

Society IS (l) , ., ^ r r 

made possible to the Square mile, over the surface oi 
by the indi- ^he earth. It is, in addition to this mere 
physical existence, an interrelated and co- 
operative system of activities; it is a unity of spirit and 
purpose; it is a community of effort and achievement. 
Each of the individuals constituting society has his own 
separate and distinctive personality, standing apart on 
the spiritual side from all other personaKties and known 
to them only indirectly by means of physical forms of 
expression. Yet, in spite of this inevitable aloofness, 
there exists that in the nature of man which inevi- 
tably demands touch with fellow man. The individual 
cannot live as an individual alone; he must also be a 
socius. 

Whatever, therefore, may be the ultimate nature of 
the bond which holds men together in societies, we must 
concede that this bond inheres in the very 
kapiidt ki man. ^^^^^^ ^f the individual; it has its roots 
in the deepest impulses and tendencies of 
man; it is a subjective demand of human nature, and 
not an invention of society thrust on from without. 

The same truth holds with reference to social achieve- 
ment. All that has become or will become explicit in 
the life of society must first be impHcit in the nature of 
man. All that becomes actualized through social en- 
deavor must first be idealized in the minds of individuals. 
The social institutions, the vocations and avocations, 
the moral standards and ethical ideals, all existed in the 
individual before they existed in society, just as the oak 
exists in the acorn before it exists in the forest. 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 25 

Society is in a very vital sense only ^'the individual 

writ large." The social process is not only made up of 

the confluent life-processes of individuals, 

Society defiaed , . . ^\ , , . ,i , 

by the char- but the nature of these determines the type 
acterofthe g^^d character of the social process. The 
social level is to be found by striking the 
average of all the individuals constituting society. The 
social stream cannot rise higher than its source. 

The individual is the bearer of social culture. During 
the centuries of its striving, the race has accumulated an 
The individual immense store of culture, and this has be- 
(2) transmits come the common possession of society, 
social culture. Languages have grown up and literatures 
of surpassing richness developed. Scientific discoveries 
and inventions have given men a large degree of control 
over the forces which come in contact with their lives. 
Institutions have arisen and become the repositories of 
collective human experience. Vocations have been de- 
veloped and specialized until they possess a marvellous 
degree of effectiveness and skill. Religion has formu- 
lated the best in man's concept of God and our relation 
to Him. These are the things that constitute the wealth 
of society on the spiritual side. They are the contribu- 
tion of the past to the present, the social heritage of the 
ages. In them society cherishes the results of the toil, 
the sacrifice, and the achievement of the generations. 

But these social riches can belong to but one genera- 
tion at a time. Each generation must receive them anew 
from the generation that precedes it; or, 

Culture must , , , . . 7 • ^.t. 

be created rather, each generation must achieve the 

anew in each social heritage for itself. The spiritual pos- 

generation. . . , , , ,1 

sessions of the race must be created anew in 
the lives of each successive generation, else the heritage 



26 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

itself is lost; for this spiritual culture is not something 
that can be stored away in vaults and saved for a later 
time; it cannot be deposited in books or incorporated 
in machines or edifices and be drawn upon a century or 
two hence. Being spiritual, racial culture lives only as 
it is constantly rebuilt into the lives of men. A few cen- 
turies of dark ages and incalculable stores of human 
treasure are irreparably lost. 

The vital part played by the individual in the trans- 
ference of culture from generation to generation is easily 
seen in a simple illustration. Suppose all 
in life, not in the individuals of a given generation should 

objects or refuse to be the bearers of the race's cult- 

symbols. , . . , „ 

ure. Let them close their minds to all 

learning and education; let them spurn all our literature, 
art, and science; let them refuse all our institutions and 
decline to participate in them as members; let them turn 
from all our organized vocations and reject all our re- 
ligions and systems of ethics. Where, then, would be all 
our boasted culture? What would become of all our rich 
social heritage? We might still for a time have our libra- 
ries full of books, but none could read them, and their 
contents would be lost; we might for a time keep some 
of our marvellous machines and our scientific formulae, 
but none could use or understand them, and they would 
disappear; our stately buildings, our railways and ships 
would remain for a time, but they would soon crumble 
away; our art and our music would fail to be understood, 
and would be lost and forgotten. All these things would 
possess no meaning for benighted humanity, and hence 
could have no value. They would, therefore, soon pass 
into tradition, and from tradition into oblivion. Society 
would fall apart, and man be reduced to a condition of 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 27 

savagery. Humanity would have to start again at the 
very foot of the ladder of progress and once more climb 
with infinite toil and sacrifice toward the goal. So great 
is the part the individual must play in the progress of 
society. 

Each generation has, therefore, a double duty before 
it. First, it must take the hentagejDf_cul^ure-b.eipeathed 
The twofold ^"5 it ^y ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ make it secure^by; in; 

duty of each COrpofStSIg it intO. their i)Wn liyeS^ not fail- 
generation, jj^g ^Q ^^j something to it mat more may 

be passed on than was received. Second, each meliora- 
tion m.usL-eflect.,a.,§afe_tran sfer of its_i^iltiiraj[£uti.suc^ 
cessbrs^that is, musljduciUeJls^-cJiM^^^ Having failed 
in either of these things, it is recreant to its trust. 
Having achieved them both, it has made its contribu- 
tion to human progress, and from the standpoint of 
society has performed its full duty. Its individuals 
are now ready, in the economy of nature, to pass on 
from the stage of action that room may be left for 
the new-comers who are waiting their turn. The field 
must be cleared for other workers who are impatient 
to take up their task. Death is as necessary to prog- 
ress as life. 

Individual initiative makes social progress possible. 
Society is conservative, the individual alone is progres- 
«,t- . ^. .^ , sive. Society falls into the rut of custom 

The individual it.ii • i 

(3) makes and tradition and tends to stagnation; the 

progress pes- individual possesses initiative and original- 
ity which impel to experiment and new 
lines of activity. The societies in which individual 
initiative has been suppressed or undeveloped have 
always been societies of mediocre or inferior achieve- 
ment. 



28 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Industrial society, fettered by age-long adherence to 
wasteful and inefficient methods of production, is eman- 
„ . cipated from economic bondasre and given 

Society con- ^ . . ... , ,.°. °. 

servative; the Wealth and leisure by the mventive gemus 
individual pro- ^f ^ Stevenson, a Watt, or an Edison. A 

Luther Burbank teaches his generation, 
long accustomed to routine methods of plant culture, 
how to double the efficiency of the soil. Bessemer, study- 
ing the processes of smelting ore, gives us the improved 
grade of steel which triples and quadruples the efficiency 
of our machines and revolutionizes our industries. And so 
on through an almost endless list of the contributions 
of scientists and inventors and organizers of industrial 
activities, who have multiplied the material resources of 
society almost beyond comprehension through their own 
initiative and originality. 

And the illustrations might be carried over into every 
field or phase of social activity. Individuals have made 

discoveries in science and medicine which 
tiie^eader?^*' are Saving the lives of millions each year, 

who otherwise would die an unnecessary and 
premature death. Moral and religious leaders are point- 
ing us to a better conception of the meaning of life and 
destiny. Wise teachers are showing us how to save 
the great waste in time and effort in securing our ed- 
ucation. Prophets of commerical and poHtical ethics 
are arousing the social conscience against public or 
private graft. Leaders everywhere, standing out above 
the common level of society, are showing us the way 
to higher social achievement or urging us to quicken 
our pace. 

Nor are we to think that only the individuals whose 
names are known to fame possess initiative and origi- 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 29 

nality. Every man who sees a better way of doing a 
thing, however insignificant and humble the thing may 
Originality not ^e, is in his measure a contributor to so- 
an attribute of cial progress and a benefactor of his race 

genius alone. t* i • 

livery man who is not a mere follower, 
but, while he follows, occasionally leads in his own 
sphere of activity, is an inventor and leaves his im- 
press upon society. 

Society is, therefore, rich finally in its individual mem- 
bers and the ideas which they possess. The world has 
PossibiUties of ^^^ greater material resources and natural 
^ead ^°'^''* powers than we have yet dreamed of. Each 
new discovery and invention only serves to 
give us an inkling of what is yet to be if we but continue 
to invent and discover. The social world has larger pos- 
sibiHties of mutual helpfulness and service for the com- 
mon good than we have yet put into practice. Human 
powers and capacities possess far greater resources than 
we have yet succeeded in developing from them. Man's 
concept of God is susceptible of incalculable enrichment. 
What we need is individuals of originality and power to 
stir up their generation to thought and action. What 
we need is all to be men of thought and power, fully de- 
veloped personalities, finding our own highest good in 
contributing our part to the good of all. 

Briefly summing up our discussion, we have seen that 
the individual and society are indissolubly linked to- 
Summary, gether as the two factors in one unitary 
process. The interests, the success, the de- 
fects of the one are the interests, success, and defects of 
the other. But, while this is the case, yet each has its 
own particular function to perform in the common 
process. 



30 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Society must give the individual his chance; his op- 
portunities are to be made the most favorable possible; 
the social matrix must be a soil favorable 
sodXy?^"^ ° ^^ individual growth and development. 
The social atmosphere must be free from 
impurities, and must contain the elements that will stim- 
ulate to individual effort and achievement. The social 
organization must rest on the ideal of the common good, 
and equal opportunity. The social standards must re- 
quire and reward moral conduct, while still leaving room 
for individual judgment and independence. Above all, 
society must not fail in efEciently transmitting its social 
heritage to the individual, but efficiently perform the 
greatest of all its functions, that of educating its youth. 
For failure at this point means inefficiency for the indi- 
vidual, and stagnation and decay for society. 

On the other hand, the individual man has a responsi- 
bility no less heavy. He is the legatee of a thousand gen- 
erations who have toiled and sacrificed to 
the indMdud. accumulate the splendid heritage placed in 
his hands. He owes a great debt to society 
which he can repay only as he first pays the debt he owes 
to himself — that of making the most of his own powers 
and capacities. And this self-development is to be 
accomplished not selfishly for himself alone, but also for 
society in return for its gift to him. He must realize the 
social aim, through attaining to the highest possible de- 
gree of self-realization. He must respond to society's 
effort to make him the bearer of the race's achievements 
— he must respond to the attempt to educate him. 



THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 31 



REFERENCES 

Aristotle, Ethics and Politics; Baldwin, Social and Ethical 
Interpretations, ch. IX; Bosanquet, Philosophical Theory of the 
State, ch. VIII; Cooley, Human Nature and the Social Order; 
Dewey and Tufts, Ethics; Giddings, Principles of Sociology, 
Book II; Home, Philosophy of Education, chs. IV, V; Kidd, 
Social Evolution, ch. II; MacVannell, Philosophy of Education, 
ch. VI; Sumner, Folkways, ch. V; Ward, Pure Sociology, ch. 
XII; Wells, Mankind in the Making, ch. VII. 



CHAPTER III 
AIM IN EDUCATION; ITS ORIGIN AND FUNCTION 

We saw in the last chapter something of the nature 
and relations of the individual and society, the two ulti- 
The questions ^^^^ factors Concerned in the educational 
involved process. It will be our next problem to 

in aim. study the part played by aim in education; 

for the only basis from which any process can be judged 
as to its effectiveness is whether it is fulfilling its aim. 
What, then, is the nature of aim? Where does the educa- 
tional aim originate? What is its function? What is the 
aim of education? How shall education successfully effect 
the articulation of the individual with society? These 
are some of the questions that enter into our problem. 

/. The General Nature of Aim 

Ours is a world of change. Nothing absolutely is, but 
all is forever becoming. All things are passing over from 
what was, through the medium of what is 
uivMs^! ^^ what will be. One who pauses to con- 

template the endless change going on about 
him, the countless generations of life which ebb and flow, 
the rise and fall of nations, the ceaseless transformations 
of energy into its various forms, the growth and decay 
of worlds, is ready to agree with HeracHtus that all is 
change. Yet, change is not all; for change is blind, and 
may as readily lead backward as forward. And the world 
moves forward. 

32 



AIM IN EDUCATION 33 

Change offers the sole opportunity for progress, 
whether in molecules, men, or worlds; for nothing static 
Progress progresses. But change alone is not prog- 

depends on ress. Only when change is directed by 
^ ^°^®* some teleological principle moving toward 

a higher aim does it become progress. Change which has 
become progress we call evolution, which is but movement 
upward directed by an organizing or teleological prin- 
ciple. 

Our problem does not call for a discussion of the 
nature of this teleological principle. Call it God, or 
Nature of Law, or Natural Selection, or what you 

change in dif- will; it is at work in the world, making it 
ferent realms. intelHgible by binding all together in one 
organic unity, whose watchword is progress. This or- 
ganizing principle is all inclusive in its grasp. Yet it 
manifests itself differently in different spheres of being. 
In the realms of mechanism, chemism, and organism it 
acts as a kind of vis a tergo impelKng resistlessly onward ; 
or it is at best an inherent blind impulse which some- 
how moves in the right direction, but always without 
conscious foresight on the part of the thing moved. The 
force of gravitation, chemical affinities, the metabolic 
processes of organic life, all work in accordance with law, 
but without knowledge of it. 

In man the directive principle has risen to the level 
of consciousness. Man acts not only in accordance with, 

Man con- ^^^j ^^^ i^ ^^^^ knowledge of it. Here the 

sciousiy directs impulse is no longer bHnd, but is directed 
c ange. ^^ foresight toward the accomphshment of 

a conscious end. Evolution has become intelligent; the 
teleological principle works from within instead of from 
without. It is only man that can formulate an aim and 



34 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

select the means for its realization. Nor is this possible 
in equal degree to all men. Primitive men have very 
little of such power. They still stand close to the realm 
whose course is moulded by circumstances. The direc- 
tive principle has not risen in them to full consciousness; 
hence they lack prevision of end, and strive blindly, 
dependent upon a teleology operating upon them from 
without. 

The power to apprehend an aim which shall result in 
progress is a true measure of the stage reached in evolu- 
tion. In Socrates the struggle to conceive 
for an aim. ^^ ^^^ ^^^ existence was waged m tragic 
earnestness, but without more than a glim- 
mer of the inner light. He battled valiantly for a vision 
of the truth, but finally drank his cup of hemlock in semi- 
darkness. Plato cHmbed a step higher. With his clearer 
conceptions of the ends of being and man's place in the 
world, he emerged from the semi-darkness into a clearer 
light. But it remained for Aristotle to conceive, more 
clearly than had yet been done by man, the true aims 
of life and the means for their attainment. How far 
modern man has advanced beyond the stage occupied 
by Plato and Aristotle is to be measured by his ability 
to conceive a better aim than they and to select better 
means for its attainment. 

How far has modern man advanced? From Aristotle 
to Darwin and Spencer is a long step upward. Yet, with 
all man's progress, he has in large measure 
conceived.^ ^ belied his infinite capacities and proved 
recreant to his high origin and destiny. For 
much of the change which is going on within man and 
around him is yet mere change and not progress. Man 
yet conceives his end but dimly. The passing years, 



AIM IN EDUCATION 35 

the changes from youth to age, from impotence to power, 
from poverty to wealth, from ignorance to knowledge, 
too often fail to advance him toward a higher goal. Life 
is by too many measured in terms of its length instead 
of in terms of breadth and depth, and in terms of the 
amount of material substance it has amassed, gold and 
houses and lands, instead of in terms of happiness, self- 
development, and service. 

Man's problem is so to apprehend the world and himself 
that the waste of life — the waste of energy, of time, and 
Better aim to ^^ Opportunity — shall be less. The plastic 
save waste in and changing body, the equally plastic and 

®' changing mind which must be developed 

as it changes or loses its opportunity, the ever-changing 
environment of society and nature — shall these be so 
controlled with reference to a clearly conceived and in- 
telligent end that the inevitable change shall spell prog- 
ress? It remains with man himself, who is gradually 
mastering the teleological principle within his own realm, 
to say. 

Man has already through his own efforts brought about 
an age of science, and thereby put himself into possession 
„ , of a marvellous instrument of control for 

Man's great , . r • i 

achievements the attamment of any aim he may conceive 
imperfectly {qj- Jiimself. Through science he has de- 
vised means of production and distribution 
which have so increased the world's wealth that there is 
enough to provide all with abundance. He has invented 
machinery which does his work and gives him time for 
leisure. He has developed scientific knowledge which 
gives him power to eradicate most of the world's physical 
suffering and disease. He has worked out a psychology 
which enables him to train and utilize his powers with a 



36 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

minimum of loss and waste. Man has enough and knows 
enough to be living on an almost infinitely higher plane 
than he now occupies. Who of us lives as well as he 
knows how to live? What society measures up to its 
concept of physical, mental, or social law? In spite of 
the world's large aggregate of material wealth, probably 
one- third of its people go to bed hungry each night; in 
spite of modern machinery a large proportion of men are 
forced to endure a crushing, grinding toil which leaves 
no opportunity for leisure and development; in spite of 
our scientific knowledge we allow preventable diseases 
to claim their millions every year; and in spite of our 
knowledge of a scientific pedagogy we undoubtedly 
cause the child to waste half of the time he spends in 
school. 

It is no longer a question of knowledge with man, but 
a question of values, a matter of aim. Man needs better 
Better aim the ^^ conceive himself. What things are most 
great necessity worth while? What does it best pay the in- 
fer progress. dividual and society to strive for? Is it true 
that the life is more than meat and the body than rai- 
ment? Is happiness worth more than wealth? Are richly 
developed powers of more value than indulgence and 
ease, and is serving others a higher ideal than compelling 
service? The answer to these questions will depend on 
man's clearness of vision in apprehending his aim; and 
the answer will also determine the distance man has pro- 
gressed in his evolution toward that higher ideal which 
is the end of his striving. 



AIM IN EDUCATION 37 



//. Aim to Be Found Only in Experience 

How and where does man find his aim? Whence comes 
it? Ex nihilo nihil fit. Aim cannot be set up de novo. 

Past experience ^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ created by the fulminations 
the source of of reason. The philosopher cannot retire 
true aim. ^^ -^^ retreat, and there, far from the dis- 

tractions of the crowd, evolve it out of the workings of 
his own mind. Aim can he discovered only in experience. 
The aim which man to-day sets up to be reached by to- 
morrow's activities is all shot through with the colors 
of yesterday. The past gives him direction, the present 
gives opportunity for activity, and the future utilizes the 
results. Aim is, after all, nothing but the pleasant and 
profitable of yesterday projected into to-morrow as its 
goal. And when to-morrow shall have been successfully 
lived, its little step of progress will have placed the aim 
higher for the next day. Thus man is forever pursuing a 
flying goal, which he himself casts ever on before him. 
And it is this fact which raises him from kinship with 
what was in the lower realms of being — the realm of 
mechanism, of chemism, and of organism — to the highest 
realm of being, that of the conscious reahzation and pur- 
suit of an aim which finally leads him to approach in- 
finity in his development. 

It is then in the day's work; in the crush and toil and 
struggle of Ufe; in its joys and its sorrows, its victories 

and defeats, its hopes and its fears, that 
fnte'o^fe'te. ^lan finds the materials out of which to 

construct his fife's aim. For these are the 
things of value. These are the real things of fife. It is 
out of them that he must select the things that are worth 



38 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

while. Out of them he must develop his Hfe-theory, his 
concept of what, for him, are the great "goods" of life. 
Only through the medium of immediate, concrete ex- 
perience does man come to conceive his end. 
The three What, then, is experience? It cannot be 

aspects of defined in terms which are simpler than 

experience. itself, but its various aspccts may be noted. 
Experience may be described from three standpoints, (i) 
as a process, (2) as a product, and (3) as to \t^ function. 

As a process, experience is the activity of the self, the 
reaction of the self to its environment. A being incapable 
of response, or one devoid of environment, 
(iTa^processf would be utterly unable to experience. Ex- 
perience must be achieved; it cannot be 
received. There is no way in which it can be given. 
Further, since the reacting self is essentially a social self, 
and the environment which calls forth the reaction is 
essentially a social environment, the experience process 
which is the resultant of their interaction is also social 
in its nature and may be defined as social participation. 

The life-span of the individual may reach its three 
score and ten; the life of society is continuous from the 
Social nature beginning of human generations to their 
of the experi- end. Man normally finds his Kfe-process 
ence process. ^^ ^^ ^ ^^^^ ^£ ^j^j^ larger social process, 

whose origin far antedates his own, whose presence fur- 
nishes the matrix out of which his own development 
grows, and whose end Hes at the close of the race's his- 
tory. From birth until death man never knows a moment 
when he does not breathe a social atmosphere, measure 
himself by social standards, minister to social needs, and 
adjust himself to social requirements. The activities of 
the self are, then, both in their origin and their end, social 



AIM IN EDUCATION 39 

activities. Hence the experience process of the individual 
is limited by and included within the wider social proc- 
ess. There is no experience which does not have its 
social setting and coloring. On the other hand, there is 
no social process except as it is made up of the experience 
processes of individuals, wrought out in the day's living. 
For society has no existence except in the lives of the in- 
dividuals of which it is constituted. 

As a product, experience is the residual elements re- 
maining from the reaction of the self to its environment, 
the effects left in mind and organism from 
(2Ta"product. ^^^ life-process. It is conserved in the or- 
ganism as habits, or a set of organized re- 
actions, tendencies, and capacities; and in the mind as 
criteria of reference, or images, ideas, judgments, and 
standards of values with their various connections. Na- 
tive tendencies and capacities are a social heritage, the 
habits of the race transmitted to the individual, and 
hence are essentially social. Individual habits and the 
various criteria of reference are likewise social in their 
nature in that they are impossible without social partici- 
pation, or the functioning of the self in its social environ- 
ment. And further, given the experience-process, they 
are inevitable, for all experience leaves its effect in mind 
and organism. Stated differently, nothing can be called 
experience which does not leave its effect in mind and 
organism, and no effect can be produced in mind and 
organism except through experience. Both quantity and 
quality of experience as a product will depend, therefore, 
on the character of the experience-process, which in turn 
is conditioned by the character of its two fundamental 
factors — the self and its environment, with their mutual 
interaction. 



40 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

As to its function, experience serves first of all as a . 
criterion of reality, or of that of which we must take ac- f 
Experience count in our Hfe-process. The shadowy and 
in (3) its elusive forms of abstract truth and ultimate 

function. reality which to the rationalist have their 

being somewhere outside the boundaries of experience, 
may be interesting enough as figures of the mind, but 
they have Httle weight in our conduct. It is only the 
body of concrete truth and immediate reality with which 
we touch elbows in the day's living that really has a grip 
upon our actions and an influence in shaping our lives. 
Experience occupies the place of supervisor of weights 
and measures in our life's economy. It is the court of 
last resort in adjusting values among our motives and 
actions. Thus, experience is pre-eminently an instru- 
ment of control. Motives and acts upon which experi- 
ence has put the seal of its approval come to be the ones 
which function in our behavior, while the ones which are 
not approved drop out and are lost. It is in this way that 
self-control arises. Or, better, a body of experience func- 
tioning in directing behavior is self-control. Experience 
determines attitude, which is but another name for the 
degree of receptivity of the already-achieved experience 
product toward new experience, the readiness of the self 
to respond toward its environment. Finally, through ex- 
perience, the old constantly serves as a starting-point 
for the new. There are no gaps in our life-process, ex- 
perience is continuous. Further, experience can be gained 
only by reconstructing the experience already on hand. 
Acquisition is, therefore, but a process of assimilation. 
It is this fact that gives life its continuity and makes 
possible a personal self. 



AIM IN EDUCATION 41 



///. Education as a Selective Agent in the Social 

Process 

The social process, constituted as it is of the lives of 
an infinitude of individuals, is almost infinitely complex. 
Great com- ^^ ^^ ^^ broad as the sum total of human 
piexity of the experience and as long as the racial past. It 
socia process. -^ ^^ epitome of all that men have thought 
and felt and done and are now thinking, feeling, and 
doing. But not all the experience through which society 
has lived and is living to-day is equally valuable as ex- 
perience; much of it is blind, without conscious purpose; 
much of it exists but for the moment, and does not pos- 
sess permanent value; much of it is not typical, and hence 
will not serve to guide others. Furthermore, society, 
busied with its affairs and blinded with its immediate 
interests, is not always conscious of its own aim. Men 
are not yet wholly at home in the business of reflecting 
on the end of their striving and the best means of reach- 
ing this end. The teleolagical principle has not risen to 
full consciousness in man. 

It becomes necessary, therefore, in a progressive so- 
ciety, that there shall be some agency whose function it 
Hence the ^^ ^^ Select out the valuable and the typical 

necessity of a from the social process, and to accentuate 
se ective agent. ^^^ emphasize this by bringing it to the 
social consciousness, particularly by causing it to be in- 
corporated in the experience of each new generation. It 
is in this way that the trivial and irrelevant drops out 
and the significant and the permanent remains as a part 
of the social heritage. It is in this way that the progress 
which has already been attained is conserved and the aim 



42 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

set higher for to-morrow. For the goal is advanced only 
as each generation in its own climbing omits the mis- 
takes and utilizes the successes of the preceding ones. 
Defined broadly from the social side, education is the se- 
lective agent which sets up and seeks to attain the social aim. 

As an institution, education emerges in a developing 
society as evolution becomes conscious; that is, as men 
come to possess the power to reflect on 
felectivragent valucs and weigh motives and conduct. 
In other words, education has its rise when 
men become able to subject experience to analysis with 
a view to determining an aim to be achieved in the ex- 
perience process. 

When this stage has been reached, education is both 
necessary and possible. It is necessary because conscious 
Education the evolution or rational progress assumes the 
product of so- selection of ends and the means for attain- 
ciai necessity. ^^^ ^^^^ j^^^ ^j^j^ Selection is possible 

only through education. Education is possible at this 
stage, since a society which has progressed thus far is 
capable of formulating an aim and providing means for 
its attainment. 

Education as an institution consists, in its most gen- 
eral sense, of all the factors which function as a means 
Factors ^^ reaching the social aim. These factors 

involved may be classed into two broad types : first ^ 

m e uca on. |^]^ose which are not organized or special- 
ized with reference to education but whose specific func- 
tion lies in some other phase of the social process; and, 
second, the organized and specialized institution, the 
school. 

Prominent among the unorganized factors of educa- 
tion are the social traditions, standards, and institu- 



AIM IN EDUCATION 43 

tions through which the social mind and purpose are 
expressed. The home, the neighborhood, the church, 
the state, the vocations and avocations 
factoS"^^^ all play an important part in education. 
They supply the general substratum upon 
which the specialized institution, the school, must rest; 
they constitute the matrix out of which education has 
its rise, and furnish the atmosphere in which it comes to 
its development. 

The unorganized factors of education do not formulate 
and provide for the carrying out of the educational aim; 
These deter- ^^^y ^ave Other functions. Yet it is pre- 
mine the edu- cisely in them, and in them alone, that the 
cation aim. educational aim is to be found. These are 
the expression of the social mind and purpose. They are 
the various modes of the social process. And the social 
process carries its own end or aim inherent in itself. 



IV. The Social Aim is hut a Statement of the Progress 
Already Made as Manifested in the Present Social 
Process 

There can be no true aim except in terms 
tionaia^m" ^^ ^^^ social process, in terms of the lives 
found only in of men and women as they touch shoulders 
process.^ With reality in the thick of life's experi- 

ences. An aim formulated in any other 
terms might possess form, but it would lack content; it 
would lack reality, and therefore be without compelling 
power to direct conduct. 

The educational aim is synonymous with the social 
aim; indeed, the educational aim is but the social aim 
formulated and brought to the consciousness of society. 



44 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

The educational aim thus has its origin in the social 
process and leads back to it. The problem of the school, 

The educational ^^^ ^P^^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^ education, therefore be- 
aim identical comes perfectly definite, even though diffi- 
with the social ^ult. It is to discover the social aim through 

an interpretation of the social process, and 
then do its best to realize this aim in the experience of 
its pupils. It is to fit the individual to be a participant 
in a concrete, changing social experience which is going 
on about him and of which his own Hfe-process forms an 
integral part. 

A definition of the educational aim which makes it 
but an interpretation of the social process has several 
The social aim advantages. Not the least of these is its 
of education is defiuiteness. It takes the definition out of 

the realm of pure opinion and attaches it 
to reality. It therefore supplies a basis for criticising 
the educational process to determine whether it is result- 
ing in the accompHshment of its aim. Such is not the 
case with any definition which conceives the aim as out- 
side of or prior to the process, and the process, hence, as 
intermediary in reaching the aim. Good examples of 
Indefinite definitions of this kind are found in the 

statements of following two, which serve as excellent 

representatives of their t)^e: "Education is 
the harmonious development of all the powers of the in- 
dividual.'' "Education is the adjustment of the indi- 
vidual to social living." 

Indefinite nature ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ definition are we to 
of an aim from Understand by "powers" and by "harmo- 

process, "^^^^f "? ™s conception rests on the im- 

possible assumption that there are "pow- 

.ers" or "faculties" per se. But what meaning can a 



AIM IN EDUCATION 45 

power have except as the abihty to do some immediate 
and concrete thing, to function in the actual reconstruc- 
tion of an actual experience? The term "power" can 
have absolutely no definable meaning divorced from a 
concrete aim for the realizing of which it is to be exer- 
cised. Powers in the abstract are but creatures of the 
mind, and have no connection with experience, and 
hence possess no reahty. 

Nor can the term "harmonious" be any more defi- 
nitely limited in such a definition as that in which it oc- 
curs. How are we to know when powers 

The concrete , . ^ 

nature of are m harmony? What shall be the cri- 

" power "and terion? Is there such a thing as harmony 

" harmonious. 

per se any more than there are powers per 
se? When are the powers of memory, imagination, ob- 
servation, judging, and reasoning in harmony? What 
should be the amount and character of each as compared 
with the other? Has the educated Chinaman discovered 
the secret when he has committed to memory the seven 
sacred books, but without much thought as to their in- 
tent? If we say no, he will tell us that he must do pre- 
cisely this in order to successful functioning in Chinese 
society. Are our powers less harmoniously developed 
than were those of the red man, who far excelled us 
in observation? This can only be answered when we 
know whether our social process requires the propor- 
tion of observation that was required in the experi- 
ence of the Indian. 

The mind's different modes of activity, 

Powers possess , . . 

reauty only such as memory, observation, reasoning, 

when acting in etc, are but modes of experience in a life- 
real expenence. . , • i i 
process whose character is determined by 

the social practice of the society of which it forms a 



46 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

part. There is no test for the harmony of these dif- 
ferent processes outside of the end to be attained by 
them; that is, outside of the way they function with 
reference to concrete objects in actual experience. There 
is no way in which one can take the mind as a thing-in- 
itself and decide. As soon as this is attempted there is 
no criterion connected with reahty, and the discussion is 
waged in the realm of opinion, and argument but results 
in confusion. 

The second of the definitions quoted represents the 
social side of education as the first represents the indi- 
vidual side. It goes without saying that if, 

ProErcssivc so~ ./«_>/ 

ciety demands as has been shown, the individual is to be 
reconstruction defined in terms of his social functioning, 

of expenence. i • i «. 

this must be understood with reference to 
a progressive society. But this is precisely what the 
definition does not provide for. Such a definition implies 
the possibility of training a set of capacities, powers, or 
habits so that they will fit the individual into the social 
situation, where he is to be left, his education completed 
and himself ^'adjusted" to living in the society of which 
he forms a part. The trouble with such a conception is 
that society would need to be entirely static in order for 
this adjustment to last. But the world moves. And 
such an individual would no sooner have become adjusted 
than a progressive society would move away from him, 
and he would be left stranded. Such a concept might' 
be adequate for the old Chinese education in a static so- 
ciety or for Plato's ideal state where, when things were 
once adjusted, they were to remain so forever; but it is 
unsuited to any progressive society. 

A definition of education which finds the aim contained 
in the social process also has the great advantage of an 



AIM IN EDUCATION 47 

immediate as opposed to a remote aim. For the aim be- 
comes but the successful carrying out of the process as a 
CompeiUng process. The question is not whether an in- 
power of an dividual has this day taken an infinitesimal 
immediate aim. ^^^^ tow2.xd a goal which is not Only ill- 
defined but indefinitely distant, but whether he has suc- 
cessfully carried out to-day's part of the life-process, 
whether he has had real experience with some of the act- 
ual values of life. The educational ideal has often lost 
in compelling power through the vagueness and remote- 
ness referred to. A hard task becomes but little more in- 
viting to a boy upon his being told that he will need the 
power to be secured through its mastery when he has 
grown to manhood. But if he can be shown that this 
task is related to his own immediate life-process, to what 
appeals to him as worth while in his present experience, 
then a powerful motive has been put into his life. The 
aim is now not something supernumerary and beyond 
the possibility of realization, something to awaken, as- 
piration, but something definite to do here and now. And 
this is far more fruitful. 

The standpoint has also the further advantage of mak- 
ing end and means but the two aspects of a common 
. , . process, and does away with the misunder- 

The social aim . . , . . 

of education Standings concerning their right relations 
relates means which has SO often divorced them. Educa- 

. to ends. • i i - . , . . 

tion thus becomes the process of socializing 
the individual. It makes his aim to be participation in 
a social process which is constantly in the course of re- 
construction, and such participation as shall result in 
progress both for himself and society. This means that 
his own experience must be in a constant state of recon- 
struction. Further, the reconstruction must be such as 



48 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

will make him growingly conscious of social values, and 
give him increasing control over the processes of his own 
experience. This, in effect, defines education as a process 
going on within the individual. As a product, education 
can be defined in terms of the amount of control which 
the individual has over his own experience. XJK 

The separation of the educational aim from the social 

process has its counterpart in other social institutions as 

well as in the school. The misconception as 

iiSfuftionai* ^^ ^^"^ ^^^^ ^^^ attach to any one institu- 
from social aim tion of socicty, therefore, but rather marks 
the schooL^ *° ^ Certain stage in social evolution. Every 
social institution at the time of its origin 
grows immediately out of the needs of the society which 
gives it birth. This is but equivalent to saying that it is 
created for the purpose of carrying out a conscious social 
aim. As society becomes more and more complex, 
greater demands are placed on the institution. The in- 
stitution itself must therefore become more complex, 
and there grows up within the institution a specialized 
group of individuals whose function it is to direct and 
carry on the work of the institution. Here 
ism tendT^ ' "^^ ^^^ ^^^ Origins of the professions and of 
to divorce profcssionaUsm. And a professional class, 

from socSty. busied with the special work of an institu- 
tion, are always in danger of dropping out 
of touch with the wider social aim. If this occurs, they 
come to look upon the institution as an end in itself and 
forget that it is but a part of a greater process, to whose 
needs it is its function to minister. As the breach be- 
tween the institution and society widens, the aim of the 
institution comes more and more to be fixed by the pro- 
fessional class who direct it, and less and less by the social 



AIM IN EDUCATION 49 

process. It is at this stage that an aim is likely to emerge 
which is formulated from without the process, and hence 
not definable in its terms, as is illustrated in the defini- 
tions of education just discussed. There is abundant 
evidence for this statement in the history of the church, 
the state, the school, vocations, and even the home! It 
is this tendency of institutions to separate themselves 
from the actual social process which gives rise to the 
necessity for revolutions, again to place the institution 
in touch with the life and experience of the society of 
which it forms a part. 

Education must, therefore, in all progressive societies 
be in a constant state of reconstruction. It must keep 
pace with the social ideal and, accurately 
tionai aim must interpreting this ideal, must make this its 
^V^^*d^*^^ aim. Instead of setting up an aim of its 
own in such abstract terms as ^'culture," 
"complete Hving," "development of powers,'' etc., edu- 
cation must identify itself with the most vital concepts 
and movements of society. It must realize that there- is 
no culture that does not relate itself to social participa- 
tion; that complete living is realized only in the largest 
possible contribution to the common good; that powers 
not employed in worthy social activities are as levers 
without fulcrums; that the only way to educate an indi- 
dividual is to socialize him. 

Coming back to the original questions stated at the 
beginning of the chapter as constituting our problem, 

Summary of ^^^Y ^^Y ^^^ ^^ answered in brief as fol- 
answers to our lows : The general nature of aim consists in 
ques ons. ^j^^ formulation of the best elements of a 

present process as a goal for future activities. Experi- 
ence is the only test of values, and that which has stood 



50 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the test of experience becomes the end of future endeavor. 
The educational aim originates in the requirements of 
the social process and leads the individual into helpful 
and efficient experience as a part of this process. Educa- 
tion can have no meaning except as it represents the 
highest ideals of society for the individual acting his part 
faithfully in the concrete affairs of his day. Any other 
definition of education leaves it without point of contact 
with experience, and hence without reality. 

The function of the educational aim is to guide in the 
selection of the means for realizing the social aim of which 
Necessity for ^^^ educational aim is a part; that is, in 
analysis of the determining the subject-matter, method, and 
socia process, organization of education. For these, the 
constituent elements of the school, are the instruments 
devised by society for the carrying out of its aim through 
education. And only as the means are adequate can the 
end be attained. The present aim of education is to be 
formulated only by an analysis and interpretation of the 
social process. The next section of our discussion will be 
devoted to an attempt at such an analysis and interpre- 
tation. 

REFERENCES 

Bagley, Educational Values; also, The Educative Process, 
ch. Ill; Butler, The Meatting of Education; Cubberly, Changing 
Conceptions of Education; Dewey, Ethical Principles Underlying 
Education; Eliot, Education for Efficiency; Emerson, Essay on 
Education; Howerth, Social Aim in Education; Monroe, Text- 
hook in the History of Education; O'Shea, Education as Adjust- 
ment ^ Part II; Plato, Republic, Book VII; ^xidiger. Principles 
of Education, chs. III-V; Spencer, Education, dh. I; Ward, 
Dynamic Sociology, ch. XIV. 



PART II 
THE SOCIAL PROCESS AND EDUCATION 

CHAPTER IV 

THE NATURE OF THE SOCIAL PROCESS 

It was shown in the last chapter that the educational 
aim originates in the social process and leads back to it; 
in other words, that the highest end of edu- 
sociai process? cation is to fit the individual to do his part 
in carrying out the social activities in which 
he finds himself a participant. But such statements, 
while perfectly definite, are not very illuminating. For 
the social process, consisting as it does of manifold ac- 
tivities of men, is almost infinitely complex, and needs to 
be analyzed into its simpler elements if such a concept is 
to be useful as a norm in education. What goes to make 
up the social process? What is its nature? What are 
its constituents? How are they interrelated, and how 
is the whole related to the life, experience, and educa- 
tion of the individual? 

The results sought through an analysis of 
reached from ^^ social proccss could be reached equally 
individual or well through an analysis of the modes of in- 
view. ^°^^ ° dividual experience. For the modes of ac- 
tivity by which society carries on its collec- 
tive life, and the modes of experience constituting the 
Hfe of the individual are but the two aspects of one 

51 



52 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

unitary fact. Hence the problem is identical whether 
approached from the one standpoint or the other. The 
advantage of approaching the problem from the social 
point of view is that it serves to emphasize still further 
the essentially social nature of education, both as to its 
aim and its content. 

Any complete and wholly adequate analysis of the so- 
cial process must deal with the process as a whole, and 
A cross-section ^^^ simply with a cross-section of it. For, 
view not ade- no matter how accurate the analysis of the 
^"* ^' social activities of to-day, or how perfectly 

they are interpreted per se, their real meaning and sig- 
nificance will escape us so long as they are cut off from 
the process of yesterday and that of to-morrow. The very 
core of the concept of social evolution is unity, and this, 
in a dynamic society, means continuity. An interpreta- 
tion of the present involves, then, both the past and the 
future. What is can be understood only in the light of 
what has been, and also what will he. Viewed by itself, 
the present lacks perspective, and hence its values are 
distorted and are seen out of true proportion. 

Manifestly it is beyond the scope of the present study, 
as it is certainly beyond the abiUty of the writer, to enter 
Limitations for ^^^^ ^^ f ar-reaching an analysis of the social 
the present proccss as that just indicated. An inter- 
®*^ ^* pretation of the past requires an evalua- 

tion of the great lines of human culture in the process of 
their evolution; it weighs developing civilization in the 
making, and gives each factor its value in the light of 
what it has come to and what it seems to be pointing 
toward. The interpretation of the present demands even 
greater scope of vision and depth of insight. For the 
sieve of time has large meshes, and most of the trivial 



THE NATURE OF THE SOCIAL PROCESS 53 

and insignificant from the life of the past has been lost 
out without being carried over to the present, and hence 
we do not have to trouble with it. But the present, in 
the midst of which we live, move, and have our being, is 
a mighty, rushing torrent. We can judge the general 
direction of its current, but we are bewildered by its 
eddies and cross-currents ; its waves of impulse and tides 
of passion often seem to be flowing backward ; its progress 
is impeded by masses of flotsam and jetsam; its hidden 
rocks and sunken reefs have never been fully charted. 

This makes the evaluing of the present social process 
difficult, but not wholly impossible. It is difficult be- 
cause of the amazing complexity of present- 
invoived?^ day life, and also because of the lack of per- 

spective; neither men nor events can be 
seen clearly when one is too close to them. The task is 
not impossible, because the factors of the problem are 
definite and their interrelation in the process analyzable. 
The interpretation of the future must, of course, be in 
large degree hypothetical. Yet this in no sense invali- 
dates the interpretation or renders it useless. An intel- 
Kgent hypothesis is a far safer guide than blind chance. 
Indeed, all the conscious progress of the race has been 
accompHshed by following promising hypotheses, which 
have had, of course, constantly to be reconstructed in 
the light of new experience. 

Our programme in this work does not, then, include a 
comprehensive analysis of the social process ; and f ortu- 
An outUne nately such an analysis is not required in 

view will serve our problem, which is to discover the social 
purpose. ^^^ philosophical basis of education, rather 

than to work out the details of the educational process 
as carried on in the school. Our purpose will be served 



54 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

by an outline analysis of the social process sufficiently 
complete to show its chief interrelations and the place 
of education in the larger whole of which it forms a part. 
The social process, although so complex, can be ana- 
lyzed into comparatively few great lines of experience. 

In making such an analysis, however, it 
procesTfaiis must not be understood for a moment that 
into a few these lines are really separate and inde- 

experienct!^ ° pendent. The social process is essentially 

a unitary process; experience is emphat- 
ically a unitary experience, and the experience process is 
one and not many. The analysis which follows only 
attempts to emphasize the different elements which, 
interwoven, constitute the whole, whether this whole is 
considered as the unitary social process or the equally 
unitary experience process constituting the life of the 
individual. 

REFERENCES 

Forrest, Development of Western Civilization (a genetic view) ; 
Giddings, Principles of Sociology ^ Book IV, chs. I, II; Small, 
General Sociology, Parts VI-IX. 



y 



CHAPTER V 

EDUCATION AND INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF 
EXPERIENCE 

/. Institutions the Product of Social Evolution 

The social process includes all the interrelated activ- 
ities of men. By far the greater part of these activities 
^ ,. ,. are organized into well-defined groups, each 

Institutions an , . . . , 

important group havmg its owu particular structure 

phase of the Qf organization and technique of operation. 

social process. , 

We call these organized groups of activities 
institutions. An analysis of the social process is there- 
fore largely an analysis of institutions. 

Institutions represent the collective development of 
social experience. They grow up naturally out of the 
common impulses and activities of men. 
institutions. ^^^ social activities fall into various defi- 
nite groups, each group having for its aim 
the carrying out of some phase of the social purpose. 
One such group gives us the family, another the state, 
another the church, etc. Each institution arises in re- 
sponse to a social need and gives expression to social im- 
pulses. New institutions emerge whenever society feels 
the necessity for a specially organized set of activities 
for carrying out the social purpose; old institutions die 
whenever society no longer needs such organized activ- 
ities. All progressive societies are constantly becoming 
conscious of new social purposes ; hence new institutions 

55 



56 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

are having their birth, or existing institutions being 
moulded to fit the social demands at all times. Progres- 
sive societies also entirely outgrow certain of their social 
purposes, and hence have no need for the institutions 
whose function originally was the realization of such 
outgrown purposes. Thus it is that history is filled 
with the records of institutions that have served their 
purpose and been discarded by societies which no 
longer felt their need. Institutions, therefore, hke per- 
sons, have their birth, growth and development, decay 
and death. 

Institutions are at once the product and the mode of 
social evolution. They are society's invention for pro- 
T ... X. xt. viding for co-operative activities. Man's 

Institutions the . , ^ , i . 

product and impulses are essentially social, and his 
mode of social powers can be developed and employed 

evolution. ^ .^ , ... 

only as he uses them m conjunction with 
fellow men. Hence institutions are the individual's op- 
portunity for self-expression. He fits into them as nat- 
urally as if they had been made especially for him; he 
finds them suited in organization and methods to the 
exercise of his powers and capacities. This must needs 
be the case, since hundreds of generations, moved by 
the same impulses and endowed with the same powers 
as those possessed by himself, have, in trying out their 
experience, left the institutions as an expression of their 
collective wisdom, and as their solution of this particular 
group of social problems which now are confronting the 
individual anew. The person who is bearing his part in 
a progressive society will of necessity criticise matters 
of detail in the structure and method of the various 
institutions, but he will find the fundamental concepts 
involved in them to be adapted perfectly to his own 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 57 

mental constitution. He will feel at home in the social 
institutions of his day, and reahze in them the oppor- 
tunity to function as a member of society and a partici- 
pant in the social process. 

Institutions not only furnish the opportunity for the 
individual to function socially, but, on the other hand, 
Conservative ^^^Y ^^ some degree limit his activities as 
nature of well. For institutions are in the highest 

institutions. degree conservative and can change their 
form but slowly^ It often happens, therefore, that the 
social ideal is far ahead of social practice. Our theory 
of political, social, and industrial democracy is not yet 
realized; our dream of universal brotherhood of man is 
still disturbed now and then by the tramp of armies; 
church practice has not fully caught up with the Chris- 
tian ideal; and educational theory is very far ahead of 
the results achieved in schools. 

The individual finds in the necessity of modifying in- 
stitutions, to adapt them to progressive social needs, one 
of the chief opportunities for the exercise of 
modmed^^ personal initiative, and for a contribution 
through indi- to social advancement. For institutions 
tiveT^ *^^*^*" must change as society progresses, else, in- 
stead of being the instruments of progress, 
they become barriers in its way. Further, the recon- 
structing of institutions can be successfully accomplished 
only by their active membership, operating from within 
the institution and prompted by a constructive aim. The 
iconoclastic critic, attacking the institution from with- 
out its membership, may serve as a goad, but there his 
usefulness ends. It is ultimately society's positive ideals, 
and not its negative criticisms, necessary as these may 
be, which constitute the structure of institutions.^ 



58 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

The individual is completely immersed in institutions. 
So completely do the institutional activities cover the 
The universal- wholc range of social life that the individual 
ity of institu- finds it impossible to function except in con- 
tionai influence, j^^^^^^^ ^^j^ institutions. It IS true that 

he may not always have formal membership in an insti- 
tution, but nevertheless he is Subject wholly to the limi- 
tations that it imposes and the opportunities that it 
offers. Not every one has his name on the church roll, 
yet so completely do the spirit and standards of the 
church permeate the social organization that its influence 
is dominant in every line of social activity. Similarly 
for each of the institutions. The individual must breathe 
an atmosphere impregnated by their spirit and partici- 
pate in the activities which constitute their Hfe. In them 
he develops his powers, and to them he owes his allegiance 
and service. fTo fit the individual to participate in the 
institutional life of his day becomes, therefore, one of the 
great aims of education. 

We will now proceed to a brief consideration of some 
of the more important social institutions. From the 
^ , ^. standpoint of the philosophy of education, 

Two relation- -, r i - • • • i i i i 

ships of insti- each of the institutions is to be looked upon 
tutionsto irom. two points of view: First its educa- 

education, . . n i ' t • t i i 

hve influence upon the individual, the op- 
portunity it gives him for self-realization through the 
employment of his powers and capacities in social ac- 
tivities. Second, its setting a standard of requirement 
or demand for the individuaVs education. Failing to 
meet this demand, no amount of learning or of training 
of *' powers" has fulfilled the end of education for the 
individual. 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 59 



//. The Family and the Individual 

The earliest institution to be developed in society is 
the family. Farther back than we can penetrate into 

the history of the race the family existed. 
famUy! ° ^ It has had various forms and has occupied 

positions of vastly different importance 
among other institutions at different times. But after all 
man, woman, and child, two premises and their conclu- 
sion, constituting the "practical syllogism" — these com- 
bine to form the most natural, the most ancient, and the 
most vital of all the social units. 

Not only from the standpoint of society, but also from 
the standpoint of the individual, the family is the funda- 
Contribution of ^lental institution. It gives to the child 
the home to being. At first the home forms the sole 

the individual. • . j r • j i-i j.* 

environment, and for a considerable time 
thereafter the principal environment of the individual. 
It protects and nourishes him during the most plastic 
and formative period of his life. It saves him from eco- 
nomic pressure during a long period of dependence, 
guards him from pitfalls, and supplies a congenial atmos- 
phere for his development. In the home, the child, 
through imitation, learns a language, adopts ethical and 
rehgious standards, and becomes familiar with social 
forms and usages. Here he learns obedience, has his 
first experience in social co-operation, forms the habit 
of work, develops the concept of economic necessity, and 
learns to earn and save. Under right conditions the 
home constitutes the greatest formative influence in the 
education of the individual. The life of the home comes 
to color the life in all the other institutions. The inter- 



60 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

ests and activities of the home furnish the basis for the 
interests and activities in the wider Hfe of society. It 
therefore behooves society to see that the home fulfils 
its function not alone in bringing the child into existence, 
but also in carrying out its full share of his education. 

The fundamental impulses on which the family rests 
are among the most deeply rooted of any in our natures. 
Fundamental These have long served, and will continue 
relations in the to serve, to bring about the most important 

^^®* relations in the home, namely, those of 

husband and wife, and of parent and child. Economic 
necessity also adds the relations of provider and dis- 
hurser. These relations are not, in the broad sense, op- 
tional with the individual, but must be entered into and 
efficiently fulfilled. And each of these relations makes its 
own peculiar demands upon the individual, which it is 
the function of education to prepare him to meet. Failure 
of function here not only results disastrously for the 
welfare and happiness of the individual, but endangers 
ail other social institutions as well. 

The home may be said to rest on a triple basis: (i) the 
biological, or the impulses of sex, which lead to mating; 
Threefold (2) ^^ parental instinct of love for the 

basis of the child, which prompts to the care and nurt- 

°°^®* ure of children through the long period of 

helplessness and plasticity constituting infancy; and 
(3) the economic advantage obtained through the divi- 
sion of labor and responsibility in the family. 
Social changes '^^^ P^^^ century has been a time of rad- 
affecting the ical and extensive change in nearly all the 

°°^®' social institutions. The face of the earth 

has almost been made over in that time. The old in- 
dustrial and social lines have disappeared. Society has 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 61 

had a new birth. In this general readjustment, the rela- 
tions and functions of the home have been vastly modi- 
fied. Its structure remains the same, but the method of 
its activities is very different. These changes have had 
far-reaching consequences both for the home itself as a so- 
cial institution and for the school as an institution closely 
alHed with the home in the education of the children. 

Lying at the basis of these changes in the home are 
the great economic changes resulting from the passing 
Influence of ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ factory system in our industries, 
industrial Following the invention of modern machin- 

c anges. ^^^ ^^^ ^-^^ appKcation of steam and elec- 

tric power, machine labor began to displace hand labor^j 
It was found more profitable to set up a group of ma- 
chines in one place than to have the machines working 
one in a place, and the modern factory came into being. 
Within three generations, America has passed completely 
from the system of domestic manufacture to that of the 
factory, making one of the most sweeping changes ever 
effected in an institution in so short a time. 

Three generations ago almost every article used in the 

home was made or prepared by the members of the family 

at the home. The wool for the home-spun 

Former home . • j r j j j 

industries. garments was raised, clipped, carded, spun, 

dyed, woven into cloth, and made into 
clothing in the home. The meat was raised, slaughtered, 
and cured on the farm; the grain was sown, harvested, 
threshed, sometimes ground into flour, and made into 
bread without the help of others than those in the family ; 
all the vegetables and fruit were home-grown, and the 
winter supply was packed away, preserved or dried in 
the autumn without the aid of factory-made cans. In the 
workshop with its motley array of tools was fashioned 
most of the furniture for the home and the machinery 



V 



62 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

for the farm. The family life of this day was very full 
of industry and activity. Every member from the child 
to the aged grandparent had a share in the household, 
work and responsibilities.) 

But this is a picture of the past. The old-time home 
with its multipHcity of industries, its social seclusion, 
and its individual responsibility has passed 
iadustries! ° away never to return. It is no one's fault; 
it could not be helped. The demon of 
enterprise came among us and gave us factories, and we 
were obliged to hand our industries over to them. Food 
is now ordered by telephone and comes ready for the 
table; clothing is made in the shops and comes to the 
home on trial or approval; the pressure of an electric 
button lights the house, and the steam laundry washes 
and irons the clothes. The workshop has been trans- 
formed into a garage, and the vegetable garden into a 
tennis court. Of all the olden home industries, prac- 
tically all except cooking and cleaning are gone. And 
what with prepared foods and vacuum cleaners these bid 
fair to follow. 

Two great Growing out of these economic changes, 

losses to the the home has suffered two distinct losses: 
°°^®' (i) the loss of industrial training for the 

children; and (2) loss of companionship between parents 
and children. 

Robbed of opportunities for industrial training, the 
child lacks one of the most vital forms of experience. It 
The child's ^^^ remained for modern education to dis- 
loss of indus- cover the close relation between the train- 
aining. j^^ ^£ ^j^^ hand and the development of the 
mind. The child is essentially creative and constructive 
in his impulses. He is interested more in things than in 
symbols; he cares more about making things than think- 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 63 

ing about them. The developing self demands expres- 
sion even more than impression. The body as well as the 
mind craves exercise. Nor does the exercise of mere play, 
necessary as play is, fully suffice. For the individual 
must learn to work; his powers must be employed to 
a purpose; symbolizing, theorizing, and dreaming fail 
finally to satisfy the individual, as they fail of social 
accomplishment; his dreams must lead to deeds, his 
play must eventuate in work. Life must finally come 
to find its chief joy and satisfaction in labor. 

The transference of industrial training from the home 
to the school is now in the process of accomplishment.) 
Industrial studies are becoming an integral 

Industrial ° ^ 

training trans- part 01 almost cvcry school programme, 
f erred to the g^^ ^o matter how efficient the school may 

school. . 1 ' 1 1 . r 1 

become in teaching the techmque of the 
handicrafts, it can never wholly make up to the child for 
their loss from the home. For in the industries of the 
home the incentives were very real, the interests very 
immediate, and the necessities very concrete. The aims 
possessed a touch of reality which must in some degree 
be lacking in the most perfect of school exercises. But 
it cannot be helped. The greater part of the industries 
of the home are gone past any possibility of recall, and it 
only remains to make up to the child as best can be done 
in other particulars for this loss. 

Probably the greatest loss which the home has suffered 
through the changes it has been undergoing is the loss 
of comradeship and close personal touch 
loss of " com- between parents and children. In the old- 
pamonship" ^[^q home the boy was the constant co- 
worker and companion of his father, whose 
words of wisdom and views of life unconsciously built 



64 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

themselves into the ideals and practice of the son. E very- 
girl was the helper and comrade of her mother, whose 
life became the daughter's standard of womanliness.) 
The very isolation of the family made it dependent on 
its own resources for social entertainment and diversion. 
The long winter evenings were spent in telling stories, 
recounting traditions, or reading books of romance or 
adventure. Games were played, apples roasted, nuts 
cracked, and a jolly time was had around the family 
fireplace. It is hard to measure the social value of hours 
like these spent in the family circle. 

But this picture, like that of the industrial activities 
of the olden home, belongs to the past. Speciahzation 
The father but ^^ labor has taken the father from the 
little time at home and sent him to the factory or the 
°°^^* mill. And, even if he is a farmer, modern 

machinery is such that the work of father and son is, for 
the most part, separate, and they hardly meet in the 
fields. It comes about, therefore, that many fathers of 
the present day see more of the office boy or the clerks 
they employ than of their own son. In many homes the 
father is the chief financial agent for the family, but aside 
from this enters comparatively little into their councils. 
It is also true that the mother and daughter work to- 
gether less in the household duties than formerly, and 
not a few mothers know more of the daily life and thought 
of the house-maid than of the daughter. 

To these conditions, growing out of the change in the 
economic life of the home, must be added other condi- 
The school tions of similar trend coming from the in- 
keeps children creasing demands of school and social life 
rom ome. upon the time of the children. What with 
the requirements of the regular school day, the home 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 65 

lessons, the athletic events, the social functions, and the 
free and almost unrestricted associations of young people 
with each other, there is very little time left for family 
life together. And, even if the children themselves had 
the time for the family social hour, the social and the 
club engagements of the parents would greatly restrict 
the opportunity for family association.) 

The greatest divorce evil that threatens the American 
home is not the legal separation of husband and wife, 
but the separation of parents and children 
of divorceOTU. ^^^^er the new conditions which are obtain- 
ing. It is not that parents love their chil- 
dren less or that children are any less open-hearted and 
responsive than they were. It is only that the home has 
been changing, and that the tender and close relations 
of the home have not stood the strain of changing con- 
ditions. There is a grave danger that the home shall 
become chiefly a biological and economic centre — a place 
where children are born and supplied with food, clothing, 
and shelter, but with that greatest of all educative factors 
left out — the companionship and comradeship of parent 
and child. 

The old home with its isolation from neighbors, its 
busy industries, and its broad fireplace is gone. Society 
must seek new solutions for the problems 
newfondrtions. of the new home. For the home as a true 
home for. children must be saved; nothing 
can take its place. We must adjust ourselves to the 
changed conditions. It is not enough that the children 
be well housed, clothed, and fed. They are now well 
read. The school teaches them something of music and 
art. They are acquainted with a bewildering complexity 
of plays and games. They are learning manual training, 



66 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

scientific agriculture, and the industrial arts. They are 
entering into all these things with heart, hand, and 
brain. The home must recognize that the boys and girls 
of to-day live a much broader life and have a far wider 
range of interests than did their parents and grandparents, 
and provide for these new activities. Nor can all these 
things be handed over to the children without the parents 
taking a part. Games, amusements, and books shared 
with the parents have a double significance for the child. 
And, above all, it is only by entering into the active in- 
terests and life of the children that parents can obtain 
a sympathetic understanding of them, and so win their 
confidence and comradeship. 

Parents also need a more specialized knowledge of their 
children. Scientific knowledge and technique as applied 
to the industries, arts, business, and agri- 
up^on p^Ss.^ culture have increased marvellously in re- 
cent years. But no corresponding advance 
has been made on the part of parents in the knowledge 
of children and the technique of rearing them. Although 
there is an abundance of scientific material easily avail- 
able relating both to the physical and the mental life of 
the child, most parents are profoundly ignorant of both. 
Is it not worth while for parents to know something of the 
nature and unfoldment of the child's mind? Is not the 
religious nature of the child a vital and worthy object 
of study? Is not the growth, nutrition, and care of the 
child's body a scientific problem which will give the key 
to the more successful rearing of children? Would it not 
be worth while for the parents to be able to reveal to the 
children in an accurate, delicate, and scientific way the 
secrets of their physical being, rather than to allow these 
things to be learned from chance information at the 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 67 

school or on the street? Will it not yield as large returns 
to apply scientific method to the rearing of children as 
to the management of a factory or the running of a 
business? 

These requirements of the home all inhere in the social 
process. The demands of the home are the demands of 
Educational society. To function as a member of so- 
aim must in- ciety, the individual must be able to meet 
c u e t e ome. ^j^^ obHgations resting upon him as a mem- 
ber of a home. The educational aim must, therefore, not 
fail to include the fitting of the individual for this the most 
important of all his social functions, that of sustaining in 
a worthy home the relations involved in the family. 



III. The Community as an Educative Factor 

When the individual first extends his activities beyond 

those of the home, he finds himself participating in the 

life of the community. The community 

The commu- . i i hi ... 

nity extends the Cannot strictly be called an mstitution, 
child's social since it lacks definite organization and does 

environment. .1^1 t r ^ 

not undertake a specific programme of char- 
acteristic activities. Yet the community forms so im- 
portant a factor in the life of the individual, particularly 
during his earliest years, that it deserves some consider- 
ation in our discussion. It is the community that offers 
an opportunity for a wider and more generalized experi- 
ence than is possible in the home. Here the activities are 
less specialized, and hence less closely organized. Paren- 
tal authority and care are lacking, and the child is 
thrown more on his own resources for control and the 
conservation of his personal interests. The boundary 
lines of the community are not clearly drawn as they 



68 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

are in the home, and thus the community leads directly 
out into the wider social life which in the end encompasses 
the race. 

The community greatly extends the social relation- 
ships of the individual. It is here that he learns to know 
friendj neighbor j comradej companion, play- 
tionship af- fellow, chum. And these relationships afford 
forded by the opportunities for types of experience which 

community. . ... , . ■. 

rapidly develop and disciphne the social 
consciousness, preparing it for the still wider touch with 
men in all possible social relations. The community also 
gives rise to various organizations, such as clubs and so- 
cieties of many different kinds, which come finally to ab- 
sorb not a little of the individual's interest, and no small 
proportion of his time and activities. These are coming 
to play an increasingly larger part in the child's experi- 
ence, and their nature and number constitute one of the 
serious educational problems of the day. 

The environment supplied by the community, coming 
to the individual during the very plastic period of his 
Importance of ^^^j ^^^ remaining for many the most im- 
community portant social medium after the home, plays 
environment. ^^ important role in education. The stream 
of suggestions pouring in upon the child from the ma- 
terial part of his surroundings, the aesthetic values re- 
ceived from lake, river, and beautiful parks or ugly tene- 
ments, from rolling prairies or dirty alleys, are all built 
faithfully into the life structure. Likewise the ethical 
and religious standards, first by suggestion and uncon- 
scious imitation, and later by conscious adjustment to 
their requirements, have an important formative influ- 
ence. Saloons, gambling halls, and dens of vice supply 
no worthy stimuli for the youth, and, even if not fre- 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 69 

quented, have a constant tendency by their very presence 
in the community to dull the moral sense. The theatre, 
possessing great educative possibiHties, is, on the whole, 
not an elevating influence in many communities. The 
nickel theatre, which might be made an important agent 
in education, is often of questionable value as an amuse- 
ment, and at its worst is a positive menace to the morals 
of the community. 

The modern tendency toward municipalization is tend- 
ing to break down the older t3^e of community life. 
The city hos- Twenty families, living together in an apart- 
tiie to com- mcnt house which occupies a smaller area 
munity spirit. ij^^LU. that required for a tennis-court, using 
common hallways and elevators, and passing each other 
at close range daily, and yet without knowing each 
other's names or employments or extending even the 
most formal greetings — this comes far short of being a 
community or a neighborhood. Nor is the situation 
helped when this building is flanked by literal square 
miles of other similar buildings equally crowded with 
people who know as little of each other. Without doubt 
there is a distinct loss in this mode of living which can 
be compensated for only in part by the advantages 
afforded in other lines by the modern city. Neighbor- 
hood clubs, social settlements, and various other clubs 
and organizations have been devised to supply the loss 
suffered by the passing of the community in cities. The 
problem will perhaps receive its best solution finally 
through the medium of the public school, which is com- 
ing to be looked upon as the neighborhood centre and 
meeting place in many of the larger American cities/ 

Society has not yet awakened to the importance of 
the community as a factor in education. With the les- 



70 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

sening of the influence of the home in the life of the 
child, there has been, except in the larger cities, a cor- 
The commu- responding increase in the influence of the 
nity as a factor community. Children hardly yet entered 
m e ucation. upon their 'teens participate far more in the 
community life than was done by their grandparents 
when full grown. And it is a grave question whether, 
along with this increase of influence, the community has 
not at the same time become on the whole less safe and 
serviceable as an educative factor. 

If the commimity is to do its part in the education of 
its children, it has two problems yet to solve. Firsts 
Demands on ^^ must provide an environment whose 
the commu- influences are pure and wholesome. The 
^*^* stream of suggestions daily pouring in upon 

the child must be free from taint; they must prompt to 
high ideals and worthy living. Second, the community 
must recognize and provide for the social impulses of 
growth. It is not enough to ring a curfew bell and forbid 
the boys to join a gang and the girls to be on the streets 
unattended. Negations never remove impulses, but at 
best only slightly deflect their course. Further, most of 
the impulses leading to irregularities of youthful behavior 
are fundamental to development, and only need suitable 
modes of expression to become a serviceable factor in 
education. Let the community, therefore, open a library 
well supplied with books and magazines adapted to 
young people; let it provide a well-equipped gymnasium; 
let it maintain a room where a great variety of suitable 
games may be played; let it see that church, or school, 
or municipal building opens its doors to the young peo- 
ple for an occasional social function; let it encourage the 
organization of clubs and societies for its boys and girls.i 

/ 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 71 

For, in proper measure, these things all belong to youth 
and its education. Expression, rather than suppression, 
is the law of growth. 

IV. The Church as a Social Institution 

The church is the organized religious activity of so- 
ciety. As an institution it expresses the sum of religious 
^ . , , culture, man's ideal of religious experience 

Social nature , . , 

of religion and the technique of religion. The con- 

^h^ ^h^ ^^P^ ^^ religion is essentially a social con- 

cept. The idea of the fatherhood of God 
involves the ideal of the brotherhood of man. The 
religious impulse is pre-eminently an impulse to service. 
The developing concept of God has shown him to be no 
dread being to be propitiated that he may not visit man 
with dire calamity, no partial deity crowning one peo- 
ple with the fruits of his good pleasure and visiting 
another with the accumulation of his anger, nor a God 
of vanity whose pleasure is to be satisfied with man's 
praise and adulation as a measure of his religious devel- 
opment and experience. It has shown him to be rather 
a God of experience, a positive force at work in the world 
and in the lives of men prompting them to higher ideals 
and nobler living, a presence that manifests itself most 
clearly and efhciently in connection with the actual run 
of experience as man participates in the world's work. 

This wider concept of God has made 

The social . . . 

concept gives religion a very practical matter; it trans- 
reaiity to forms it into a manner of living, thereby 

religion. . , o? ^ 

taking it out of the realm of the unreal, or 
semi-unreal, in which all things not reduced to experi- 
ence exist. The church thus becomes an important social 



72 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

institution, a means of realizing the higher impulses and 
most fruitful experiences of the individual, and of educa- 
ting to the noblest social ideals and practice. It is the 
instrument of righteousness, which must ultimately be- 
come the ideal of every progressive society. 

The scope of the social programme of the church is at 
present the subject of much discussion and not a little 
The social difference of opinion. The influence of re- 

programme ligion permeates all experience, touching 
o e c urc . |j£g ^^ every point. Yet the church as an 
institution cannot extend its activities so far as to par- 
ticipate in the functions of all the other institutions. The 
purpose of the church is rather to cultivate in its members 
the religious spirit and ideal, the ideal of righteousness 
as expressed in personal life and social service. The 
nature of neither the church's aim, therefore, nor its 
organization permits it to develop a technique in many 
lines of social activity. But, neither must the church 
allow theory to be separated from practice, else theology 
supplants piety and the church loses its hold on society 
through losing contact with social interests and needs.) 
The essence, or at least the outcome, of religion is ex- 
pressed in service, and the church must inculcate this 
ideal in practice as well as in precept; it must render 
social service as well as preach it. 

It would seem, on the one hand, that the church could 
best accomplish its mission by impressing the religious 
The primary Spirit and method upon the social organiza- 
functionof tions already at hand. For example, the 
ec urc . church should not expend its energies in 
duplicating schools supported by the state; but should 
only enter this field when it is evident that there is an 
educational need which is not being met by existent insti- 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 73 

tutions. The church should not compete with philan- 
thropic organizations under municipal or independent 
control, but co-operate with them. But, on the other 
hand, an earnest aggressive church will find many points 
of contact with society that have not been occupied by 
any other form of social activity. The needs of man are 
many sided; wretchedness, ignorance, and poverty are 
all too common; vice stalks unchallenged in many places; 
the necessity for innocent recreation and amusement is 
immediate and pressing. The various social institutions, 
in parcelKng out among themselves the activities covering 
the social demands, have not occupied the whole terri- 
tory; they have left vacant areas here and there. 
< It is in these unoccupied places that the church finds 
its opportunity for organized social service. Nor will 
this social service of the church be the same 
to compie- in all communities. For it must apply its 

ment, not to energies at the point of greatest need, and 

compete. ^ ^ ^i • \ <• ^.-j.' r 

not at the pomt of competition. In one 
place the church may need to organize philanthropies; 
in another, to institute and administer playgrounds; in 
another, to found schools; in another, to fight graft and 
vice; and in still others, only to provide the regular re- 
hgious programme of preaching, prayer meetings, and 
Sunday-schools. ^ 

It is in the congested regions of great cities, where 
the mental and the social horizon are necessarily nar- 
Theinstitu- ^^^j whcrc material wants are pressing; 
tionai church where opportunities for recreation and self- 
and city slum, improvement are sadly lacking, that the in- 
stitutional church finds its warmest welcome and its great- 
est opportunity. Its hospitals, its playgrounds, Kbraries, 
and classes for instruction come to stand for organized 



74 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Christian kindness. In ministering to the physical and 
social needs of its people, as well as to their spiritual 
needs, the church secures a correspondingly stronger hold 
on their interest and affection, and thereby secures their 
loyalty and support in return for its services. For the 
community is appealed to in a new and more power- 
ful way when it feels that the church is concerned in the 
welfare of the whole man, and not just a part; and that 
the here as well as the hereafter forms a part of the defi- 
nite programme of the church. 

The m.ost ambitious social programme so far under- 
taken by the church has been in the line of general edu- 
cation. Almost from the first, the Christian 
and education, church has conceivcd the education of its 

adherents as one of its chief functions.^ 
Long before the state had undertaken any comprehensive 
scheme of universal education, the church had provided 
schools, not alone for its members, but for all who chose 
to avail themselves of the instruction. In America, the 
church has played a far less important part in education 
than in England. Yet, here, the Catholic Church, which 
has but few higher institutions, supports and administers 
thousands of elementary schools. The Protestant Church, , , 
which has given its attention chiefly to higher education, 
has organized, and in some degree controls and supports, 
a large proportion of the higher institutions of the 
country. In England, the church has had almost full 4 
control of practically all elementary education up to about 
a generation ago. Since that time, however, the state has 
been supplanting the church through extending its control 
and support to include elementary education. 

It is inevitable that, as the concept of universal edu- 
cation comes to dominate the social mind, the state shall 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 75 

assume education as one of its principal functions. The 
task is too large for the church, both on the adminis- 
The state the trative and the financial side. Further, the 
chief support existence of many sects '^^dthin the church, 
e ucation. ^^^^ jealous of its own doctrines and 
methods, renders it impossible for the church to admin- 
ister a system of imiversal education. The state nov/ 
supphes adequate educational facihties for the elemen- 
tary and secondary instruction of its yoimg in nearly 
every community. It may well be questioned, there- 
fore, whether it is necessary or wise for the church to 
compete with the state in this field of education. 

The state has not as yet supplied sufficient facilities 
for higher education for all who desire it. The church 
The church ^^^ enter this field without competing with 
and higher the State in the same degree as when at- 
e ucation. tempting to give elementary education. 

The church has also up to this time felt the need of its 
own higher institutions for the training of its leadership. 
It has demanded that its leaders have an opportunity for 
receiving their higher education in schools dominated by 
Christian ideals and suppl}dng a religious en\ironment. 
Not willing to trust this to the schools of the state, the 
church has freely spent of its energy and its treasure in 
estabHshing and maintaining colleges and universities. 
The control of the church over these schools, however, 
has gradually been loosening, and in many instances the 
relation between church and college is now purely nom- 
inal, and in other instances has been wholly dissolved. 
Unless the church can succeed in impressing rehgious 
standards and ideals upon the higher institutions which 
it no longer controls, and can thereby supply an en\dron- 
ment favorable to the development of the Christian 



76 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

spirit in such schools, its withdrawal from the field of 
higher education cannot but prove disastrous for the 
leadership of the church. 

Whatever may be the future of the church's activity 
in the field of general education, however, it is clear that 
it must be chiefly responsible for rehgious 
chiefly ^^^ education, and must not fail in its task. It 

responsible for is impossible in America, where there is such 
education. ^ diversity of faiths and creeds, to teach 

religion in the pubHc schools. Coupled 
with this is the deplorable fact that the home is no longer 
concerning itself with rehgious education of children in 
the same degree as in former times. The result, then, 
must be that of throwing a constantly increasing burden 
on the church in providing for the rehgious education of 
its youth. 

It is probably fair to say that at the present time the 
church is not adequately meeting its responsibihty at 
Th h r h ^^^^ point. The result is that religious edu- 
not meeting cation is on the decline. Unquestionably 
Its responsi- there is a far less general knowledge of the 
Bible now than there was fifty or one hun- 
dred years ago. Also, the children are attending church, 
and probably Sunday-school, in considerably smaller 
proportion. The church has not yet fully awakened to 
the fact that the religious education of its children, and 
not preaching to adults, is its most important function. 
This is seen in the fact that the church is organized and 
conducted chiefly for adults, and not for children. And 
yet, childhood and youth certainly supply the most fruitr 
ful soil for rehgious nurture and instruction. 

The Sunday-school cannot be expected to show the 
same efficiency in organization and method as the public 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 77 

school. It meets too infrequently, and its officers and 
teachers are largely untrained for their work, and hence 
The limita- inefficient. But, even making allowance for 
tions of the this handicap, the church has been slow in 
un ay-sc oo . j^g^j^j^g ^gg q£ ^j^g educational principles 

tested, proved, and appHed in the pubUc schools of the 
day. The pedagogy of the Sunday-school is from fifty 
to one hundred years behind that of the public schools. 
Organization, curriculum, and method are all archaic. 
Encouraging signs are beginning to appear, however, in 
the movement recently initiated in several of the denom- 
inations looking toward a graded curriculum, better or- 
ganization of the school, and normal classes for the train- 
ing of the teachers. One further step yet remains in 
the preparation of the ministry for the educational work 
of the church: this is that they shall be as well trained 
in the principles of practical sociology and the art of edu- 
cation and teaching as they are in the Bible and theology. 
Institutions, like nations, have their crucial times. 
The church of the present is rightly concerned over the 
The church limitations of its influence. Only a com- 
conffonting paratively small proportion of the people 
a crisis. ^£ ^j^y community are church-goers, and 

this proportion seems to be decreasing. Thousands of 
those living in the larger cities never see the interior of a 
church building, and the same is true of the rural com- 
munities. In many of the crowded industrial districts 
of cities, where people live in swarms, the churches find 
it difficult to eke out an existence, and many of them have 
to depend for support on parent churches situated in 
more favored surroundings. The marvellous period of 
industrial progress through which America has been pass- 
ing for almost a century has had a tendency to culti- 



78 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

vate a materialistic attitude of mind. The ''goods" of 
life have come to be measured largely in goods. Ethical 
standards in business and politics have not always stood 
the strain. Religious zeal has had a tendency to wane, 
and the church does not exert the relative influence and 
possess the importance of a generation or two ago. 

Yet man is, after all, fundamentally religious. He may 
temporarily have lost perspective in measuring values. 
The oppor- -^^^ there is evidence of the rise of new 
tunityofthe idcals and standards; the social conscience 
*^ ^^^ ' is awakening, and other values than money 

are exerting their appeal. In this reconstruction the 
church is facing a great responsibility and opportunity. 
If it proves equal to its opportunity, its standards and 
ideals will dominate in the leadership of the great social 
movements now getting under way; if it shall fail to 
measure up to its responsibility, it will not only have 
missed its opportunity, but society will be immeasurably 
the loser through lacking the inspiration and steadying 
power of the religious impulse inculcated by the church. 
For the ethical standards of the church are the only ones 
which render life and property safe. Its morals are the 
protection of the home. Its ideals and practices give tone 
to the entire social order. Efficient social participation 
requires of the individual that he shall function as an 
actual member of the church, giving support to its enter- 
prises and serving worthily as its representative. 
^, . The educational aim must therefore in- 

The educa- 
tional aim elude the fitting of the individual into the 

must include activities of the church. This does not mean 

the church. • i <• . i i i 

that particular faiths or creeds are to be 
taught in the schools. On the contrary, this can be done 
only in the church and the home. The school can, 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 79 

however, through its instruction and its curriculum, lay 
broad and deep the foundations of reverence for the 
Creator of the universe and the laws that control it. The 
social concept can be developed and the ethical conscious- 
ness quickened. The moral impulses can be cultivated 
and the sense of personal responsibility enhanced. The 
school can accomplish these things even with the limi- 
tations imposed upon it as to teaching reHgion. And 
these things constitute, after all, no small part of the con- 
tent of religion. 

V. The State and the Educational Aim 

The state is the most comprehensive of all the social 

institutions. In one sense it may be said to include all 

tat ^^^ others, since the state provides for their 

includes the Organization through its constitution and 

other institu- jg^^g ^^^ protects them in the exercise of 

tions. 

their functions. In the state the whole of 
society joins hands, making common cause and seeking 
a common welfare. The state represents, therefore, the 
activities of society as an organic whole, as against such 
smaller- units as the family, the church, or the commu- 
nity. In the state all the narrow and intensive loyalty of 
the smaller social units is supplanted by the broader and 
more extensive devotion to the welfare and progress of 
the whole. In the activities of the state the social hori- 
zon of the individual is wonderfully broadened. Service 
must be rendered and sacrifices made, not for those of 
his own family, community, or cult, but for people whom 
he has never seen and does not know. The social bond 
comes to have a new meaning, and the term common good 
comes to include every class and condition of society. 



80 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Co-operative activities are undertaken, not for private 
profit, but for public welfare; rules of justice are estab- 
lished and conditions of equal opportunity set up for all 
alike. 

The state has existed in many different political forms, 
running the whole gamut from the most absolute of mon- 
Fundamentai archies to the freest of democracies. Un- 
principies of doubtedly many different forms will con- 
t e s a e. tinue to cxist, but whatever the form, the 

foundation principles of justice and equal opportunity 
must obtain if the political organization is to be perma- 
nent and if society is to progress. The pages of history are 
filled with the tragic records of nations that have denied 
their citizens one or both of these fundamental rights, 
and themselves perished through their short-sightedness; 
and modern Russia seems unable to read the lesson of 
the past and is piling up for herself a heavy account 
against a sure day of reckoning. 

The activities of the state may be divided into two 
broad classes which may roughly be described as posi- 
Two types of ^^'^^ ^^^ negative. The negative function 
functions of involves the restraint of the anti-social and 

® ^ ^ ®* the prosecution of unavoidable wars. While 

these functions are purely negative in the sense that they 
only remove obstacles to progress instead of furthering 
actual progress, yet they are absolutely necessary and 
vital to the very existence of society. For there is a 
sufficient residuum of selfishness and evil lurking in hu- 
man nature that its expression must be restrained and 
discouraged; hence, our restrictive laws and system of 
police, our courts, and our jails. Let this function of 
the state fail, and life, property, and virtue are no longer 
safe, every other institution totters, and the state itself 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 81 

cannot long exist. Wars are becoming more rare; they 
should and probably will altogether cease. No nation 
can hereafter justify itself in the eyes of 
function.^ ^® the world in going to war from selfish mo- 
tives. Only when the national integrity is 
threatened, or the weak are oppressed, is a people justi- 
fied in going to war. Yet selfish and belligerent nations 
do still exist, and all nations will therefore probably be 
obliged for the present to maintain armies to insure their 
own safety and self-respect and to carry out their part 
of the world's social programme. 

In the exercise of its positive function the state first 
of all seeks through its laws to establish justice among 
individuals; that is, to provide conditions 
function. ^^ which will allow full and equal opportunity 
for every individual to exert his powers 
within the limit of the common good. The state, having 
in mind the universal good, must have the right, of course, 
to say where the exercise of one person's powers are inter- 
fering with others in the exercise of their powers, and 
hence set the limits to acts of the individual which would 
interfere with the general good. What is true of the 
rights of the state as to the control of individuals must 
apply to its control over institutions. The rights and 
powers of the state are supreme, for the state is all the 
people acting for the greatest good of all. 

The positive function of the state also extends to the 
carrying out of certain lines of activity related to the gen- 
Projects best ^^^^ welfare. There are many undertakings 
carried out which, bccause of their stupendous nature, 
y e state. ^^^ l_^^ carried out only by the state. Pres- 
ent illustrations of projects of this nature are the building 
of the Panama Canal and the vast reclamation projects 



82 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

under way in the Western States. In addition, there are 
certain other projects of such nature as to require uni- 
form administration for the whole country, and hence 
can best be administered by the state. In our own coun- 
try the postal system is the best illustration of this class 
of activities. In carrying out its positive function, it is 
the duty of the state to take over to itself only those func- 
tions which can best be administered by all of society 
acting through its ofhcials, and then to carry out such 
functions for the benefit of the whole people. The state 
should not enter upon fields in which individual initiative, 
acting under regulations set by the state, can equally 
well carry out the function. In cases, however, where the 
state cannot well set the limits for individual or corpo- 
rate activities, or cannot enforce its regulations, then the 
state should manifestly take over the activity to itself. 

Under the older regimes, before the individual and 
society had risen to full self-consciousness, there was little 
Relation of the Opportunity for the individual to partici- 
individuai to pate in the affairs of the state. The state 
e state. j^^^ responded to the universal movement 

toward social and political democracy, however, and is 
to-day essentially what it is made by the participation of 
its members. The participation of the individual in the 
affairs of the state is of necessity of a much more general 
and indirect nature than his participation in the smaller 
and more compact social institutions. When right rela- 
tions exist between the two, the individual hardly feels 
the yoke of the state's authority; the different projects 
of the state are directed by persons for the most part un- 
known to the individual; and his own voice in the state's 
affairs is expressed through representatives chosen for 
this purpose. The ballot is the individual's sole means of 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 83 

exerting his influence in the control of the activities of the 
state, and the immediate effects of the ballot are some- 
times hard to see. The result is that the individual not 
infrequently loses sight altogether of his own power and 
authority, and either fails to use the ballot or else uses 
it carelessly or for his own personal ends. 

PoKtical democracy is more than a modus operandi of 
government; it is far more than a piece of legislative and 

administrative machinery. Democracy is 
democmcy?^ an expression of the worth and intelligence 

of the individual; it is a spirit, a standpoint, 
a confession of faith in the ability of society as a whole to 
govern itself. Democracy assumes that the citizens of 
the state shall possess the intelligence, the public spirit, 
and the ethical standards which will prompt the indi- 
vidual faithfully to do his share in shaping the activities 
of the state for the common good. Let the individual fail 
at any one of these points and the foundations of de- 
mocracy begin to weaken. 

Ignorance, selfish indifference, and low ethical stand- 
ards are, therefore, the three great foes of representative 

government. The state must, in sheer self- 
de'mocracy.''^ defence, protect itself at these points. It 

must see that its citizens are educated, that 
they possess the spirit of patriotism, and that high ethical 
standards are put at a premium. 

Education is, therefore, in a very immediate and vital 
way, one of the first concerns of the democratic state. 
Education a ^^ educated citizenship is a bulwark of 
chief concern safety and a national asset. The money 
of the state. spent on schools is returned a thousand- 
fold to the state in the form of intelhgent participation 
in its activities and sympathetic understanding of its 



84 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

purposes. The state could without doubt expend with 
excellent returns to itself much more than it is now put- 
ting into our public schools. The four hundred millions 
which we are now expending annually for public educa- 
tion looks Hke an immense sum, yet it is not more than 
one-half what is needed to put school support on an ade- 
quate basis. Nor does this sum seem such a drain on 
our national resources when we consider that we annually 
expend fully two and one-half times as much for tobacco, 
and five times as much for liquor as for the current ex- 
penses of our pubHc schools. 

It is axiomatic that education in a democracy must be 
universal. The state has a right to compel its citizens 
Is American ^^ become educated to the degree necessary 
education to make them safe and desirable citizens, 

e cien Most of our commonwealths now have com- 

pulsory education laws looking to this end. Much still 
remains to be desired in this connection, however, as is 
shown by the fact that the average age of quitting school 
in this country is about twelve years; the average period 
of school attendance is a trifle over two full years. As 
long as these conditions obtain, we can hardly claim an 
educated citizenship; for children under twelve years 
cannot be adequately trained for citizenship, and espe- 
cially is this true if their school attendance is limited 
to two years. 

But, dangerous as is ignorance to the life of the state, 
it is probable that indifference to the obligations of citi- 
Dangerfrom zenship are a still greater foe to public 
poUticai safety. If all the well-disposed citizens of 

in erence. ^j^^ country were to take a part in the po- 
litical affairs of the state perpetually, omitting neither 
caucus, nor primary, nor convention, nor polling place, 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 85 

the control of the political boss and gangster would 
speedily come to an end. For nearly always, in the case 
of a battle between the forces of corruption and the forces 
of decency, the stay-at-home vote holds the balance of 
power. And the stay-at-home vote does not consist of 
the forces of corruption, but of decent citizens whose 
selfish interests or lack of pubHc spirit keep them from 
the polls. 

Political ethics is undergoing a radical reconstruction 
in this country at the present time. Graft and corrup- 
Awakening of ^^^^ practised in high places have born fruit 
political in petty graft and corruption in small mat- 

conscience, ^g^g Legislative votes cast not in the in- 
terest of public welfare but to support special privilege 
have had their counterpart in votes sold for a pittance 
at the polls on election day. The selling of the franchise 
for money or preferment has reached alarming propor- 
tions in many parts of the country. This practice strikes 
at the very centre of national life through corrupting the 
morals of its citizens. But the civic conscience is awaken- 
ing; bribery and corruption are being uncovered and 
punished ; public office is coming to be a public trust, and 
official responsibility an opportunity for social service. 

Education has no higher aim than the 

The educa- 

tionai aim preparation of youth for efficient citizenship, 

must include ^his aim must include not only the train- 

the state 

ing of the intellect, but also the inculcating 
of an unselfish and aggressive patriotism based on high 
moral and ethical standards. 



86 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



VI. The School as the Instrument of Education 

The school is the one institution that belongs exclu- 
sively to the child. Not only did the needs of the child 
The school the Originally call the school into being, but 
child's they also constantly must determine its 

insti u ion. character and activities. The school dif- 
fers from the other social institutions in that its function 
is more sharply defined and its activities more narrowly 
limited than theirs. The home, for example, has many 
functions, among the chief of which are the biological, the 
economic, and the social. The state carries out a vast 
number of different lines of activity. But the school has 
only a single function — that of educating children; hence 
all its activities are concerned with this one end. 

Society has evolved the school as the means through 
which to attain its educational aim, the specialized instru- 
The school as ^ent for transmitting its culture and ideals 
an education to the new generation. Our schools may be 
ac ory. looked upon as a great system of education 

factories in which the children are both the raw material 
and the workers. The curriculum, equipment, and or- 
ganization are the tools used in the process by which the 
child is made over into an active, efficient, contributing 
member of society. The teacher, through his manage- 
ment of the school, through instruction, and through the 
influence of his personality, supphes the most favorable 
conditions possible under which the child is to work. 

The problem in the school, as in any other 

the™chooir^*^° factory, is to secure the largest output with 

the least waste of material and labor. On 

the one side, society expects in return for its outlay 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE^ 87 

men and women vitalized by contact with the choicest 
in the race's thought, feeling, and achievement, and 
made ready for efficient participation in social activities. 
On the other side, the individual looks for the fullest 
possible development of his powers and capacities in a 
significant and growing experience which forms an in- 
tegral part of the broader social experience which con- 
stitutes his environment. 

Waste in education is hard to measure. There are 
no standardized units in which to sum up educational 
D'ffi uit growth and development. Furthermore, 

measuring influences entirely outside the organized 

waste in activities of education are operating on the 

Ufe of the child, and forces within his own 
nature are ripening wholly irrespective of the school. The 
ultimate test, that of efficient participation in the social 
process and continued personal growth, is long delayed. 
While results are therefore not only the theoretical but 
the final test of any system of schools, results are so hard 
to measure and so long in coming that they are not a ser- 
viceable measure of the success of any particular school. 
The best test of a school is its activities. What is 
going on in the school? Are the pupils there regularly? 
Are they spontaneously employing their 
sdfooi. * powers? Is the work they are doing sig- 

nificant because related to the permanent 
and fundamental interests that are dominating their 
lives? Is the organization of the school such as to stim- 
ulate the social impulses and develop ethical impulses and 
control? Is the curriculum vitally related to the social 
process of which the children are a part? Is the teacher 
a worthy representative of social culture, inspiring in his 
personality and professionally equipped for his work? 



88 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

If such questions as these, dealing with the activities of 
the school, can be satisfactorily answered, there will be 
little occasion for concern over the quality of the output, 
or over the question of waste in the education factory. 

Measured by the standards just stated, there are cer- 
tain sources of waste in our present system of schools 
Sources of ^^^^ should cause us grave concern. First 

waste in of all, our children do not continue long 

sc 00 s. enough in the schools. There is too much 

leakage between grades, too much waste of opportunity. 
Professor Thorndike has shown that,^ for all cities of 
25,000 and over in the country, out of every 100 chil- 
dren who enter the first grade 10 have dropped out be- 
fore reaching the fourth grade; 19 before reaching the 
fifth grade; 32 before reaching the sixth grade; 46 before 
reaching the seventh grade; 60 before reaching the eighth 
grade; and 92 before reaching the twelfth grade. This 
showing is undoubtedly better than would hold for the 
entire country. This means that only 40 per cent of our 
children are receiving a common-school education and 
8 per cent a high-school education. The average age of 
leaving school is about twelve years, after an aggregate 
attendance of slightly more than two full years. We can 
hardly hope to train to intelligent and efficient partici- 
pation in a democracy under these conditions. 

Further, there is a great waste from irregular attend- 
ance. An industrial concern would hardly think it pos- 
sible to run with from a quarter to a third 
attendance. ^^ ^^^ Operatives constantly idle. Yet this 
is what we do in the schools. The average 
daily attendance in some States falls as low as 65 or 
75 per cent of the registration. Of course a perfect 
^Bulletin of United States Commission of Education, No. 377. 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 89 

percentage of attendance cannot be expected, but 
school-going is hardly yet considered by many as a 
business which needs the same regularity as any other 
business. 

Probably, however, the greatest source of waste in 
our present schools is in the teaching. We have not yet 
as a nation learned the economy of expert 
pooft^eacSng.^ teaching. Our standards for entering the 
vocation are low, and the professional re- 
quirement of those in the work almost negligible. Teach- 
ing is gradually being given over into the hands of women, 
there being now slightly over twenty per cent of men in 
the work. The compensation is hardly sufficient to war- 
rant men to accept classroom work as a life occupation 
except in the larger cities. It is not unusual for pupils 
to pass through the entire twelve grades of the public 
school without having any instruction under a man 
teacher. 

It need hardly be explained that no criticism is in- 
tended on the value and ability of women as teachers. 

Teaching -^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ women are needed in 

mostly by the school, as in the home. Further, it is 

women. impossible to develop a professional spirit 

and technique when the term of service in the vocation 
is short; and the proportion of women engaged in teach- 
ing materially shortens the tenure in the work. For 
women will not, and should not, look upon teaching as 
a life work. Their career ultimately Kes in the home, and 
there most of them are to be found after a year or two 
in the schoolroom. 

From the nature of its origin and its function, the 
school is the complement of the other social institutions. 
In primitive societies, no schools are needed, for the home, 



90 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the state, and the church, being simple in their organiza- 
tion and function, are able to take care of the instruc- 
tion of the child in all the Hnes necessary for 
supplement to efficient participation in the Hfe of society 
other insti- g^g ^hen organized. But, as Hfe grows more 
complex, two changes take place in this re- 
lationship; the institutions themselves find their activi- 
ties so multiplied that they have not the time for teach- 
ing the young, and the educational demands grow so 
complex that only an institution giving all its time and 
attention to the work of education, and organized with 
this specific end in view, can carry out the work of teach- 
ing the young. For example, in primitive societies the 
home is able to instruct the child in all that is needed of 
the simple arts and crafts required to fit the individual 
into so elementary a social process. But as social inter- 
ests multiply, and as the home itself takes on many new 
functions growing out of the more highly organized social 
life, it finds the educating of children far beyond its 
power. 

Likewise, in the early state, the duties of citizenship 
were taught the young men by the chieftain of the tribe 
and fully exemplified by him in their presence in the hunt 
or on the war-path. But as the simply organized tribe 
grew into the complex state with its citizens numbered 
by milhons, it manifestly became impossible to train for 
citizenship in any such way. 

The early church made it an important part of its 
function to instruct its members, and particularly the 
young, in the principles of religion, and in the creed and 
technique of the church. In the United States, this func- 
tion still rests with the church, with whatever help can 
be had from the home. In England, France, and Ger- 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 91 

many, however, instruction in religion is a regular part 
of the school's function. 

The school has, therefore, arisen out of very immediate 

and concrete social needs. At the time of its origin, it 

^ , took over a set of very necessary functions 

The school , , , . . . - / , , 

must keep that the Other institutions found themselves 

close to social unable successfully to carry out. It had 

iieedSs 

no doubtful or distant aim. It responded 
fully to the social demands and purpose. There was no 
danger of a divorcement of the educational aim from the 
social aim; for they were one and the same. The great 
problem of the school at all stages of its development is 
to maintain this immediacy of response to social needs 
and the social aim. That it has not been able to do this 
at all times is not strange; for social needs and the social 
aim are not always easy to interpret. But that the school 
should be allowed to continue out of harmony with so- 
ciety would indicate that society has not yet been able 
to select, organize, and administer a means of carrying 
out its aim. 

While the school has so important a set of functions, 

it may nevertheless be questioned whether the other 

Is too much social institutions are not expecting and 

demanded of demanding too much of the school; whether 

e sc 00 ? ^j^^y ^^^ ^^^ making the school a dumping 

ground for activities in which they themselves are fail- 
ing or which they are shirking. Homes that are not able 
to control rebellious or wayward children not infrequently 
turn the problem over to the school with a sigh of relief, 
expecting the school to reform where the home was un- 
able to form. Or other homes in which an atmosphere of 
bickering and fault-finding prevails, and in which the 
rules of common courtesy and politeness are constantly 



92 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

violated, expect the school to train the child to gentle 
conduct and a responsive disposition. 

Similarly the community not infrequently works at 
cross-purposes with the school in requiring that the school 

teach children the principles of hygiene and 
mmiity^nd temperate living, and at the same time 
school may offers for Sale tobacco and cigarettes to 
pmpotls!''^^' school children and tempts them by saloons 

and worse dens of vice. The school is ex- 
pected to instruct children in the laws of health and how 
to avoid diseases whose communication and progress are 
due to lack of cleanliness or reasonable caution. Yet 
schoolrooms themselves are not always clean and well 
ventilated; the common drinking-cup is yet common; 
food that has been exposed to the dirt and dust of the 
street or store is daily sold for food. 

The state demands that the school shall teach the 
principles of good citizenship, honesty, patriotism, and 

obedience to law. Yet there are many un- 
tii?state. desirable citizens among us; honesty is not 

yet the established rule among all citizens; 
there are those that put private interest above patriotism ; 
and not a few law-breakers go about among us unpun- 
ished. 

Of course, it is not to be expected that the home, the 
community, or the state will be perfect any more than 
.„ . . . that the school will be perfect. And the 

All institutions . , . , • i • .«. ^» 

should assist fact that the other social institutions are 
^h ^^wid*^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ meeting their problems does not 
imply that the school shall be indifferent to 
the demands placed upon it. The problem of educating 
the child is a common problem. All the institutions are 
involved in it. The school cannot do it all. The other 



INSTITUTIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 93 

institutions must do their part and furnish an atmosphere 
that is not only not hostile to the work the school has 
set for it to do, but an atmosphere that renders the work 
of the school more easy and fruitful. Team work among 
the social institutions is the first requisite in the educa- 
tion of the child. 



REFERENCES 

On institutions in general: Addams, Democracy and Social 
Ethics; Bagley, Educative Process, ch. II; Bosanquet, Philo- 
sophical Theory of the State; Chancellor, Motives, Ideals and Values 
in Education, ch. II; Coleman, Social Ethics; Dewey and Tufts, 
Ethics, part III; Henderson, Social Elements, part III; Riidiger, 
Principles of Education, ch. XIV. 

On the home: H. Bosanquet, The Family; Dewey and Tufts, 
Ethics, ch. XXVI; Eliot, American Contributions to Education, ch. 
V; Parsons, The Family, chs. XIV, XV; Saleeby, Parenthood 
and Race Culture; Small and Vincent, Introduction to the Study 
of Society, books III, IV; articles by Talbot, Sumner, Oilman, 
Henderson, and Morrow in American Journal of Sociology, vol. 14. 

On the community: Small and Vincent, Introduction to the 
Study of Society, book 11. 

On the church: Brown, Social Message of the Modern Pulpit; 
Caird, Philosophy of Religion; Coe, Education in Religion and 
Morals; Commons, Social Reform and the Church; Gladden, The 
Church and Modern Life; Henderson, Social Duties; King, The- 
ology and the Social Consciousness; Mathews, Social Teachings of 
Jesus; Peabody, Jesus Christ and the Social Question; Starbuck, 
The Psychology of Religion; Education and National Character, 
published by The Religious Education Association; articles by 
Judson, Cochran, Kerby, Evans, Simkhovitch, Mangold, and 
Allen in Annals of the American Academy, vol. XXX. 

On the State: Bosanquet, Philosophical Theory of the State; 
Hill, World Organization and the Modern State; McKechnie, The 
State and the Individual; Willoughby, Nature of the State. 

On the school: Chancellor, Our School, ch. II; Dewey, The 
School and Society; Dutton and Snedden, The Administration of 



94 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Education in the United States; Eliot, American Contributions to 
Education, ch. VIII; Gilbert, The School and Its Life; Hanus, A 
Modern School, ch. V; Henderson, Principles of Education, chs. 
XV, XVI; Jenks, Citizenship and the Schools; King, Social 
Aspects of Education; MacVannell, Philosophy of Education, ch. 
X; Scott, Social Education; Spencer, Education. 



CHAPTER VI 

EDUCATION AND VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 

/. Vocations as a Mode of Social Evolution 

All human progress rests on toil and sacrifice. It has 
been so from the beginning and will be so till the end. 
Work at the Man early learned that only by the sweat 
basis of all of his face should he eat bread. He quickly 
progress. outgrew the nomadic impulse that led him 

to wander about, living precariously on the gratuities of 
nature obtained from the chase or the untamed fields. 
He settled down and became a worker. He became the 
master of his environment and made it yield to his com- 
fort and advancement. His mastery gave him a sense of 
power. He became provident, and was no longer de- 
pendent on the accident of season or the supply of game 
for his food. The rigors of climate have no longer any 
terrors for him. He has emancipated himself from the 
grip of circumstances and become a ruler in his domain 
through work. 

Once having learned to work, man makes this his chief 
business. He tills the soil until it yields every manner 
of fruit. He takes the iron from the mine, 
woSct. ^^^ wood from the forest, and the clay from 

the hill-side and makes them into homes, 
factories, and cathedrals. He harnesses the rivers, tunnels 
the mountains, and bridges the oceans for his commerce. 
He pries out the secrets of nature and develops science. 

95 



96 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

He immortalizes his hopes, his aspirations, and his suffer- 
ings in literature and art. Man is patiently climbing 
upward and is carrying his environment with him. 
Work has been the greatest formative influence in his 
evolution; it is the means by which he has created civ- 
ilization. 

At first man's work was heterogeneous and unorgan- 
ized. Each was his own butcher, baker, and candlestick- 
Diverse nature i^^^er. But, finally, both personal choice 
of primitive and ccouomy of effort led to division of 
^^^ ' labor. One man became a tiller of the soil, 

another became a miner, another a fisherman, and so on. 
Vocations were having their rise. And the process of 
subdivision has gone on until an astonishing degree of 
refinement has resulted. Each worker must 
labor^^^ now develop a very high grade of skill in 

a narrow field. The Jack of all trades finds 
no place in the world's work under modern conditions. 
The day of specialists is here. 

There are many vocations, but man's needs lie at the 
centre of them all; hence they are all interrelated. In- 
deed, social unity and interdependence are 
of\oc\tio^ns. nowhere better illustrated than in the voca- 
tions. Let the railway workers strike, and 
a city goes hungry. A season's crops fail, and business 
and the other industries feel the stringency. A score of 
vocations unite to set our breakfast-table, and half a 
hundred men working a thousand miles apart join hands 
in supplying us with a suit of clothes. The scientist is 
helpless without the skilled mechanic to construct his 
instruments and machines, and both pay tribute to the 
farmer, who in turn profits by the work of the scientist 
and the inventor. 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 97 

Men work for two very good and sufficient reasons: 
first, because they have to, and second, because they de- 
sire to. Both economic and social necessity, 

Vocations . , . . i i 

a universal as we have already seen, spur men to labor, 
mode of jjg ^j^q -^[w j^q^ work may not eat, and 

neither will he stand well among his fellows. 
Man is too great to be satisfied with mere dawdling or 
the expenditure of his powers on the trivial and inconse- 
quent. He is at his best only when some great purpose 
demands all his energies in fruitful toil. Vocations con- 
stitute, therefore, a universal mode of existence. The 
only exceptions are to be found at the two opposite poles 
of society, and both are equally abnormalities and in the 
way of progress. The one is the vagabond, lacking in 
initiative and too lazy to provide for himself by work; 
the other is the rich idler, also lacking in initiative, and 
too lazy to work when not compelled to provide for him- 
self. Not only are none so useless, but none are so devoid 
of interest and incentive as those who have nothing 
worthy to do. 

The many vocations that have been differentiated in 
the evolution of the social process can be grouped in a 
Fundamental ^^^ broad typical lines. Each of these lines 
groups of represents some one great field of human 

vocations. needs which it supplies, and all together 

unite to form one of the strongest unifying principles 
of society. 

II. The Industrial Vocations 

The industrial pursuits, such as agriculture, mining, 
and the trades, are the oldest and most fundamental of 
all the vocations. Man's first necessities are material; 



98 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

he must have food, shelter, and clothing. All the insti- 
tutions, indeed the entire social fabric, rests on an eco- 
industriai voca- i^o^^ic basis. Leisure and the opportunity 
tions underlie for education and the refinements of life are 
a ot ers. based on some one's productive toil. All 

who study, or teach, or write, or paint pictures must 
have some other members of society supplying them 
with the necessities of Hfe and the materials that go into 
their work. In former times this was accomplished by 
slaves, who were looked upon as extra-social, and hence 
possessed of no rights of their own. 

But with slavery gone, and the industrial workers 
constituting one of the most important groups in our 
The problem democracy, the problem changes. It now 
of industrial becomes the aim so to utilize scientific 
wor ers. methods of production in the industries, 

and so to train the worker in the use of his powers 
and the technique of his labor, that the largest possi- 
ble output shall result from the expenditure of time 
and effort on the part of the worker. For the less of 
human energy it is necessary to put into the economic 
basis of life, the more there will be available for other 
lines of progress and for a broader development of the 
individual. 

Therefore, the man who, through better conceiving his 
work, or better training himself for it, or by inventing 

improved appliances or methods, can make 
laiSr.^** ^^^ blades of grass grow where one grew 

before is a benefactor of his race. He is in 
so far a creator, and is fulfilling a function than which 
there is none higher. He is ministering to one of the most 
immediate and fundamental of human needs and is him- 
self in contact with the deepest realities of experience. 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 99 

It is this fact that gives labor its dignity and makes pro- 
ductive toil a contribution to human progress. 

Society has been slow in including the industrial occu- 
pations in its educational aim. In fact, it has been 

rather the fashion in certain quarters to 
aimstow^to dccry as spurious all education that is 
include "practical" in the sense that it touches the 

vocations. industrial activities. It is true that the 

old-time guilds opened schools for their ap- 
prentices in which they were given training in their voca- 
tion. But when the state took up education, this type 
of training was for the most part omitted. In recent 
times, Germany, England, and France have seen their 
mistake in the matter of industrial education and have 
made this an integral part of their school programme. 
Until recently it has been one of the anomalies in our 
own educational system that in many States the only 
industrial education offered at the expense of the state 
was in the reform schools. But the social demand that 
industrial training shall form a part of general education 
has become very insistent and all but universal. The 
schools are responding to the demand and the programmes 
are being reconstructed to include this work. In addi- 
tion, many municipalities are now establishing special 
trade schools in which a thorough knowledge of, and skill 
in, the industries may be obtained. Not only is agricult- 
ure being introduced into the common schools in many 
States, but special schools and courses are being organ- 
ized throughout the land. 

Division of labor ^^^ ^^ ^^^ most significant f acts in mod- 
causes loss of ern industries is the division of labor with 
^^ ^^^^ * its high degree of specialization, and the 

introduction of machines to do the work formerly done 



100 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

with hands. So far as the activities involved in the 
actual labor itself are concerned, it seems inevitable 
that the individual must be the loser by the change. 
For it is hard to maintain the same interest in the work 
of daily smoothing the edge of hundreds of shoe heels at 
a machine that attached to making the whole shoe when 
this was done by hand. The acts that go into the labor 
become automatic and less of the self is called forth. The 
worker tends to become a machine. 

Proper adjustment to this phase of the industrial sit- 
uation requires that the worker shall apply his interest 
and initiative toward making himself the 
necessSy?* Hiost expert speciaHst possible in his nar- 
row field. In this way he will find satisfac- 
tion in his labor and will also increase his production as 
measured per unit of time and effort. As a compensation 
for this increased productivity he must himself receive 
better hygienic, social, and moral conditions under which 
to work. He must receive larger pay in order that his 
standard of living may advance. And he must work 
fewer hours so that he may have time for recreation and 
self -improvement. 

It is imperative that the problem of a better adjust- 
ment of the industrial workers to changed conditions in 
Problems modern industries shall be worked out, and 

pressing for that this group of vocations shall receive 
solution. ^j^^j^ share of the advantage that has come 

from the more efficient modes of production. For it 
matters not how loud the roar of our factories, how 
long our railroads, or how high our buildings if hu- 
man life is being degraded or left undeveloped in the 
process; the result cannot be progress. The greatest 
wealth of society is after all her men and women. A 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 101 

worthy and permanent civilization cannot be built on 
industrial slavery or injustice. 



///. The Business Vocations 

Necessary as are the industrial vocations, the industrial 
workers alone, functioning solely as producers in the in- 
Necessity for dustries, could never build a complex civili- 
business zation. Crops must be raised, but grains 

voca ons. must also be distributed to the world's mar- 

kets. Iron must be dug from the mine, smelted, and made 
into machines, but this can best be done on a large scale 
and with an organized system that requires minute divi- 
sion of labor and the use of much costly machinery. 

The business vocations stand for the organization and 
direction of industrial energy, and for the application 
Nature of ^^ Capital toward making the effort ex- 

business pended in the industries more productive, 

voca ons. Factories are set up, transportation sys- 

tems put into operation, efficient methods of exchange 
devised, and all the rest of the vast machinery of the pro- 
duction and distribution of wealth co-ordinated and made 
effective by those acting in the business vocations. 

Through the introduction of labor-saving machines, 

the application of more efficient methods of manufacture, 

and, above all, through skilful organization 

Common / ' . i r i i r i 

interests of and management m the field of production 
capital and ^iXid. distribution, the business vocations have 

labor. 

doubled and trebled the value of human 
energy as applied to the industries. Business workers are 
therefore as necessary in any highly organized society as 
are industrial workers, and each group supplements the 
activities of the other. There can be no fundamental 



102 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

antagonism between the interests of the two classes. The 
struggle that is being waged between labor and capital 
does not grow out of a conflict that is inherent in their re- 
lations, but out of class blindness and selfishness and social 
malorganization. 

The business occupations differ from the industrial 
in affording greater opportunities for the satisfying of 

certain instincts for competition and con- 
be'h^een^^^ flict. In his evolutiou, man has come up 
business and through agcs of fierce struggle, and these 
vacations. experiences have left in him the love of a 

contest. Wars are becoming less common 
and hand-to-hand conflict is wholly tabooed. But the 
contests of the modern business arena supply an outlet 
for these fighting tendencies. They lack nothing of the 
cunning and but Httle of the ferocity of the earher com- 
bats with the enemy in the forest or on the battle-field. 
In the fierce struggles on the board of trade little quarter 
is asked or given. 

The problem of the business vocations is a double one. 
Its first aspect is so to adjust the relations of business to 
Problem of ^^^ industries that the industrial workers 
the business shall not be exploited for the advantage of 
vocations. capital. It is true that, on the whole, the 

business vocations engage a higher grade of intelligence 
and education than the industrial occupations and can 
therefore justly claim larger rewards for their workers. 
The inherent selfishness in human nature has, however, 
impelled business to take more than its fair share of the 
joint product of the two vocations. Great masses of in- 
dustrial workers have been exploited to enrich business 
and have themselves been reduced to the lowest living 
wage. This has precluded for a large proportion of the 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 103 

industrial workers not only all the luxuries and refine- 
ments of life, but in many cases nearly all of its comforts 
and many of its necessities as well. Such a situation is 
a source of constant strain on the social bond, and a seri- 
ous barrier in^the way of social progress. 

The second phase of the problem confronting the busi- 
ness vocations is concerned with a change in the direc- 
tion of the conflict involved. Conflict there 
fiicTavaiiabS! ^^^^ Continue to be, for a large part of the 
satisfaction in business comes from the 
game itself. But the better part, at least, of the impulse 
that prompts to combat can be satisfied in other ways 
than in slaughtering one's competitor in the commercial 
arena. Man's best powers are yet challenged by proj- 
ects for more efficiently utilizing natural forces and re- 
sources, and he needs still to grapple with the difficulties 
involved in the better organization and management of 
business enterprises. Business energies directed in these 
lines will still result in pitting man against man, but the 
conffict will be indirect, and neither will need to fail in 
order that the other may succeed. Competition in these 
directions resiflts in the enrichment of society and the 
impoverishment of no one. 

The educational aim cannot ignore the business voca- 
tions, for their relation to the social programme is very 
vital and their functions very important, 
tionaiaim' Every individual is in some degree a busi- 
must include ness man. He must help organize and 

business iT_ u • r i. t. 

vocations. carry on the busmess of a home, a shop, a 

farm, a church, or a state. Therefore gen- 
eral education should take into account the business side 
of social activity and furnish training in the elements of 
business law, the forms and usages of commercial paper, 



104 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

and the technique of ordinary business operations such 
as are required by those engaged in other than business 
occupations. 

The principles underlying the organization and man- 
agement of business enterprises, and the technique of 
Business ^^^ activities involved in them, are becom- 

training in ing well enough known so that we are ap- 

^^ °°^* proximating a science of business. This 

means that those who are to enter upon business vocations 
should have the opportunity for special educational prep- 
aration in these lines. Business education has been 
brought into some degree of disrepute in this country 
through the so-called "business colleges,'' hundreds of 
which purport to give a complete business education in 
six months. The most that these schools can do is to 
offer instruction in the incidentals of business; that is, 
in the details of business forms and book-keeping. While 
all this is necessary for the business man, this much alone 
is but a training for clerks and book-keepers. An en- 
couraging tendency is just now observable, however, in 
the opening of ''departments of commerce" in various 
of the leading American universities, where the underly- 
ing principles as well as the method of business may be 
studied. 

IV. The Technological Pursuits 

The technological pursuits possess a different, if not a 
higher, type of interest than the business vocations. It 
Nature of the ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ invention emerges, and that 
technological force and cunning are appHed to material 
pursui s. things and not to men. The technological 

worker sets his task at mastering the materials and forces 
of nature and subjecting them to his will. He is not in- 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 105 

terested in theories except as they lead to practical results. 
He fastens upon some bit of truth in the form of a law 
or hypothesis discovered by the scientist, appKes it to 
the products of mine, forest, and field, and a new machine 
or a new process is the result. In order successfully to 
carry on his work, he develops a remarkable degree of 
skill and refinement of technique. And where his hand, 
because of its natural Kmitations, is unable to carry out 
his wish, he just constructs another instrument and turns 
the work over to it. 

On the social side the contribution of the technologist 
is in the direction of making our world more habitable. 
The contri- '^^^ discovcries of science are applied to the 
butionofthe vocations, making them more productive, 
technologist. ^^^ invention not only makes work easier, 
but also suppHes many appliances that add immeasurably 
to the comfort and breadth of Hfe. The technological 
worker, while he is dependent on the industrial vocations 
for his materials, on the business vocations for the finan- 
cing of his projects, and on the scientist for much of the 
knowledge that he utiHzes, is the actual and immediate 
creator of the material side of civilization. It is from his 
hands directly that we receive the finished product that 
adds to our convenience or luxury. It is through his 
work that electricity is harnessed and sent on our errands, 
or made to light cities and run our cars; that Niagara is 
belted to dynamos and made to become a source of power 
as well as of wonder. Steam is made into a slave, and 
the ocean becomes a highway. Buildings are erected that 
tower a tenth of a mile in the air and house comfortably 
and hygienically under one roof more people than five 
in an average village. CaHfornia is brought nearer to 
New York than Boston was to Philadelphia in the older 



106 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

day, and the whole habitable world is welded into one 
great family by the telegraph, the cable, and the news- 
paper. 

In return for the materials that he receives from the 
industrial workers, the technologist originates inventions 
and machines that multiply many times the efficiency of 
industrial labor. He gives back to the scientist in return 
for what he borrows from him the telescope, the micro- 
scope, and a thousand other machines and instruments 
indispensable in scientific research. In like manner this 
debt is paid to each of the vocations. 

So important has technology become in our modern 
Hfe that education has seen the necessity of incorporating 
Technology ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^- '^^^ highly specialized skill 
and the edu- and trained technique required in tech- 
cationai aim. nology Cannot be secured without specially 
organized schools possessing extensive equipment and 
affording expert instruction. Lack of technological edu- 
cation leaves a nation at a disadvantage in two important 
particulars; first, the lack of skilled workmen makes it 
impossible to compete successfully with the foreign na- 
tions which have trained workmen; second, lack of skill 
and efficiency in production results in waste of natural 
resources. 

The United States, possessing seemingly inexhaustible 
resources, and capable of producing great wealth with 
little effort, has been slower than Europe in 
sta^es^ehind seeing the need of the technological as one 
in techno- of the aspccts of pubHc education. Ger- 

training. many, England, and France, being less 

favored than our own country, and having 
a denser population, have been forced to use every means 
of increasing the efficiency of production. Hence, in 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 107 

these countries technological education is much farther 
advanced than with us. The indications at present are 
that the American people are awakening to the part 
that technology plays in the social process and will pro- 
vide for this type of education. 

V. The Scientific Pursuits 

The scientific pursuits are dictated by still another type 
of interests. In these the play of mind has come to be 
Nature of ^^ ^^^ ^^ itself. Genius and cunning are 

scientific pitted against the Great Unknown. The 

pursm s. imiverse of law and matter challenges the 

mind. Man accepts the challenge and is slowly but 
surely unravelling the secrets of nature. The scientist 
as such is not concerned with the practical application 
of the truths he discovers. To be sure, he knows that all 
truth is valuable and in the end related to human experi- 
ence, but he leaves the application to others. Truth for 
its own sake becomes his motto. Research and investi- 
gation become a game, with some new bit of truth the 
stakes. The "pure sciences" are the result. 

In a less highly differentiated society, the scientific 
pursuits, concerned as they are with the accumulation of 
truth rather than with the question of its bearing on the 
immediate affairs of men, would have little direct value. 
But with our present degree of differentiation, there 
always stands ready the technological and the business 
vocations waiting to make serviceable to the immediate 
needs of society what the scientist discovers. 
Contributions '^^^ value of the Contributions of the sci- 

of science to entists to social advancement cannot be 
social progress, computed. Not the least of the contribu- 
tions of science is the method that it embodies. The sci- 



108 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

entist is pre-eminently an investigator. He seeks first 
of all the facts and desires them at first hand. He sub- 
jects all authority and tradition to examination and 
test. He undertakes to prove all things that lie within 
his field and holds fast only to that which he can prove. 
This method and attitude have come in large degree to 
prevail in all lines of modern thought. Nothing is too 
trivial or too sacred to be subjected to investigation and 
verification. This critical spirit has undoubtedly re- 
sulted in some loss of reverence and respect for many of 
the older concepts; on the other hand, it has made the 
concepts that have stood the test more vital in relation 
to experience. 

Science has freed us from the reign of superstition. 
Through the discovery that all nature has been evolved 
Science frees ^^^ Continues to operate in accordance with 
from super- all-inclusive law, we no longer beheve in 

stition. . ^ J J 1 

Signs, omens, and portents; hence, we are 
no longer under their tyranny. Eclipses are not animals 
eating up the moon and to be frightened away by much 
noise and shouting; pestilence and disease are not a visi- 
tation of Providence indicating His displeasure with our 
conduct, but are a result of our carelessness and diso- 
bedience to natural law; poverty and crime are not to 
be taken as a matter of course, but are the result of dis- 
coverable and in some degree preventable causes. 

Through the discoveries of the scientist, the length 
of human life is being greatly lengthened and the rav- 
Science ^S^^ ^^ sickness and disease much reduced, 

contributes thereby effecting a great saving, both 

to the arts. • n i • n i i • 

economically and socially, and also in 
unnecessary sorrow and suffering. Science teaches us 
how to conserve our natural resources; how to get the 
most out of the soil, the mine, and the forest without 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 109 

exhausting their treasures; and how to manufacture our 
products with the least waste of material and energy. 
It is science that is giving us mastery of our environ- 
ment, and hence control over the processes of our own 
experience. 

Science has come to play a large part in the educational 

aim. No country has to-day a school curriculum that 

does not provide for science as one of the 

The 6 dues.* 

tionai aim branches of study. While science has there- 

responsiveto fQj-g become a part of general education, 

SC16I1C6. 

this does not mean that the schools shall 
train to the vocation of the scientist. The scientist re- 
quires a high degree of skill and the technique of his 
special field. He must have thoroughly at his command 
the discoveries and inventions applying to his work and 
must possess a broad and accurate fund of information 
bearing upon his problems. It is therefore evident that 
the scientist must be trained in a specially fitted school 
or department which is fully equipped to put him into 
possession of these requisites. 

VI. The Professional Pursuits 

The professional pursuits belong to a relatively ad- 
vanced stage of social development. They have their 
Place of origin in the necessity for meeting crises 

professional in experience. Primitive man did not 
pursuits. trouble himself about laws of hygiene, 

medicine, or surgery until he met with an accident, or 
until sickness came; then he sent for the medicine man. 
Similarly, when the run of experience was smooth and 
undisturbed by trouble, man felt himself sufficient in 
his own strength; but when crushing sorrow came upon 
him, or eternity opened out before him, he sent for the 



110 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

minister or the priest. The lawyer was employed only 
when one was caught in the meshes of the law. The 
teacher was called in chiefly to prepare his pupil to meet 
some emergency, like preparing for a vocation, acquaint- 
ing oneself with the capital laws of the land or with the 
doctrines of the church. 

Both society and the professional class, however, are 
coming to see that the highest function of these vocations 
Changing atti- ^^ ^^ prepare so to meet the various expe- 
tude toward lienccs of life that the great crises shall 
pro essions. ^^^ siuse as threatening catastrophies. The 
physician is coming to conceive his function as being far 
more that of teaching people how to keep well than to cure 
them after they have become sick. He sees the greatest 
victories ahead for his profession in the field of hygiene 
and preventive medicine, rather than in remedial medi- 
cine. The minister and the priest are no longer thought 
of as a source of help when death threatens, but as moral 
and religious leaders who shall so teach to live that sorrow 
and death may no longer be the great crises to which the 
individual is unable to adjust himself. The lawyer does 
not find it his chief business to plead cases in court, but so 
to help in the making and interpreting of wise laws, and 
so to coimsel his clients that lawsuits shall not be neces- 
sary. The work of the teacher is coming to be conceived 
as the training of his pupils in the habit of meeting and 
adjusting themselves to crises and emergencies so that 
they may develop the power to control their own experi- 
ence under these conditions. 

Professions From these considerations it follows that 

require special the professional class must be a class of 

aimng. specialists, both as to their functions and 

their training and methods. They are leaders, and their 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 111 

education must be of a highly concentrated and intense 
character. And, in order that this may not make them 
narrow, this specialized education must have as its foun- 
dation a broad and thorough general education. 

The educational aim must include the professional vo- 
cations. The carrying out of this aim requires special 
schools of very high type. This demand is 
tionai aim being met by the organization of schools of 

includes the medicine, law, theology, and education in 

professions. . . ^-^ . . 

connection with most of the great umversi- 
ties. The profession of education is the newest of the pro- 
fessions, if indeed it should even now be called a profession. 
There are some reasons for thinking that teaching can 
never be as closely organized and highly specialized a 
profession as medicine, law, or theology. Among these 
are the uncertainty of tenure of position and the meagre- 
ness of compensation. Another is the large proportion of 
women in the vocation, most of whom remain only a brief 
time, and hence can never catch the professional spirit. 
Yet the work of the teacher is, on the whole, becoming 
more standardized, the professional spirit is developing, 
and education is gradually earning the right to be classed 
as a profession. 

VII. The Vocation of the Artist 

The artist's vocation deals not with the creation of 
values, but with their expression. The artist must first 

of all be a man of vision, one who is able 
the artist. ^^ Weigh valucs, and he must then possess 

the skill that will enable him to put these 
values into simple and beautiful form. He looks out 
upon life, the manifold life of the race, and seizes upon 



112 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the greatest concepts, the most vital experiences, the 
strongest motives. These he crystallizes in a picture, a 
statue, an epic, a cathedral, or an oratorio. Through 
the clearness of his vision and the skill of his technique 
he is able to express his ideal so clearly that even he who 
runs may read. In this way the great concept or motive, 
or whatever has constituted the ideal of the artist, is 
brought clearly to the social consciousness and made the 
common property of the race. 

The artist is pre-eminently a seeker after truth, beauty, 
and goodness in their highest form. He subjects the ex- 
The artist an periences of men to analysis and sets out 
influential certain phases to stand as types for man in 

eac er. y^ striving. He selects from among many 

values those that he conceives as most worth while. 
These he is able to emphasize by clothing them in forms 
of beauty and harmony, to whose appeal man always 
responds. The artist is therefore an influential leader 
and teacher. Upon him rests a great responsibility. 
Raphael's ideal of motherhood and childhood has set the 
standard for millions who have looked upon the " Sis- 
tine Madonna"; and Leonardo's "The Last Supper" 
reveals as much of the character of Jesus as do the 
Gospels. 

Artists of the highest type, like other geniuses, are un- 
doubtedly born, and not made. Yet there is much of the 
Relation of ^^^ impulse in all of us, and the develop- 
art to the edu- ment of this impulse should form an im- 

cational aim. ,. j. r ji rji.* 

portant part of the concern of education. 
Not only is this necessary from the fact that an opportu- 
nity to express the artistic impulse at the right time would 
undoubtedly discover to themselves many excellent ar- 
tists who otherwise would never know of their powers, 



VOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 113 

but also because all need to cultivate a knowledge of art 
and an appreciation of its values. While the public 
schools cannot teach the highly perfected technique of 
the artist, they can cultivate the power to understand 
the work of the artist and the desire to express its great 
ideals in their own experience. 



REFERENCES 

Bucher, Industrial Evolution; Cariton, Education and Industrial 
Evolution; Davidson, Education of the Wage-earners; Daven- 
port, Education for Efficiency; Dopp, The Place of Industries in 
Elementary Education; Gillette, Vocational Training; Hall, 
Youth, chs. Ill, IV; Haney, Art Education in the Schools of the 
United States; ^Idums, Beginnings of Industrial Education; Her- 
rick, Commercial Training; V^oxd {editor), Social Ministry, chs. 
V, VI; Annals of the American Academy (number on Industrial 
Training,), vol. SS- 



CHAPTER VII 
EDUCATION AND AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 

/. The Place of Avocations in the Social Process 

In apposition with vocational modes of experience 
must be placed the avocational. As society grows in 

wealth and economic pressure lessens, leis- \ 
avocations! ^^^ begins to play a more important part | 

in the social process. Avocations are as 
much a matter of social concern as vocations. For it is 
almost, if not quite, as high an art to use one's leisure time 
well in his avocations as to employ his work time well 
in his vocation. 

To prove the truth of this statement, one has but to 
witness the large number of people to whom freedom 
Importance of ^^om. toil means liberty for the indulgence 
avocational of low tastes and bestial impulses in some 
standards. sensual orgy. Such a use of leisure as this 

is a menace to society, for it breeds debauchery and 
crime; it is a menace to the individual, for, instead of 
recuperating his strength and renewing his courage, it 
saps his energy, lowers his tastes, and sends him back to 
his work depleted physically and depressed mentally. 

Nor is the unwise and unprofitable use of recreation 
time confined to this class alone. Many persons to whom 
Leisure often ^^^^ ^^^ forms of amusement would be re- 
unprofitabiy pelHug, fail, nevertheless, to employ their 
spent. leisure from work in such a way as to re- 

store reduced physical and mental power. It is entirely 

114 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 115 

possible for diversions, wholly innocent in themselves so 
far as moral wrong is concerned, to result in a drain upon 
nervous energy, or in a dissatisfaction with the routine 
of daily work, and thereby prove a hindrance instead of 
a help to the individual. 

The difficulty cannot be solved by depriving of the 
time for leisure. The impulse to recreation and play is 
Impulse to deep-seated in the race, and the individual 

play deep- cannot be robbed of the opportunity for its 

expression without grave injury to his de- 
velopment. The prematurely old children, with their dull 
and lifeless faces, who may be seen pouring from the fac- 
tories where child labor is employed, are tragic proof of 
this statement. If we trace back the history of the dull 
and brutish men of to-day, we almost invariably find that 
they were the playless children of yesterday. 

The physical necessity for recreation is indisputable. 
The child needs to play in order to develop his brain, pro- 
Physical ^ote bodily growth and vigor, and secure 
necessity for muscular control and co-ordination. His 

recreation. ■, ^ . . . , , 

only way of gaming energy is through spend- 
ing it, and his only way of becoming master of his body 
for the more serious business of life is through using all 
its powers in the unrestricted activity of play. 

The adult needs the change and rest that come through 
avocations hardly less than the child. The fagged brain 
The adult ^nd listless organism are the result of run- 

needs ning too long in one groove, of playing too 

steadily upon one string. It is not work, but 
unremitting work, that kills. If between the ages of 
twenty and seventy years a man is to work forty years 
and rest or play ten, he should not work steadily from 
the time he is twenty until he is sixty and then drop all 



116 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCx\TION 

occupation and spend the remainder of his days in idle- 
ness, being, as Browning puts it, one 

"Whose lot is cast 
With those who watch, but work no more, 
Who gaze on Hfe, but live no more." 

The better plan is to distribute the rest-time of life 
throughout the working period as recreation and thereby 
retain the ability and desire to follow one's vocation till 
the end. 

The mental necessity for play and recreation is no less 
pressing than the physical. Probably the most rapid 
Mental progress made by the child in his mental 

necessity for development is during the play years before 
recreation. j^^ j^^^ reached school age. Play, which 
has been looked upon as an incident, or even as a neces- 
sary evil in the life of the child, is one of the most educa- 
tive factors. Imagination, memory, invention, judgment, 
and many other of the mental powers are never more vi- 
tally and fruitfully trained than in the activities of plays 
and games. Inhibition, self-control, and co-operation 
are in constant demand on the playground. Here also 
crises are met and problems solved that are closely typ- 
ical of the more serious crises and problems of later forms 
of experience. 

Besides the influence of play in genetic development, 
its purely recreative function must not be overlooked. 
Necessity '^^^ mind demands change of activity and 

for relief environment. It must get out of the rou- 

from routine. ^^^^ ^£ .^^ (j^ily work, no matter how inter- 
esting this may be, or stagnation and a decline of rnental 
power inevitably result. It is not hard thinking, but con- 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 117 

tinuous thinking along the one line that drains mental 
power. Not inactivity, but intellectual and emotional 
change is needed; and not change of thought alone, but 
also a change enlivening the mood. To work without de- 
pletion of power, a certain amount of tonic in the form 
of fun and enjoyment must be had. 

Work in most of its forms is in some degree social in 
its activities, but it is too serious and concentrated when 
Social ^^^ interspersed with play to yield the best 

necessity results in the training of the social impulses, 

or pay. j^ ^^ j^ ^^^ recreative activities that the 

social nature finds its fullest and freest expression. Only 
when work is laid aside and people are mingling in their 
avocations are the social powers at their best. 

The child's first touch with the wider social order 
outside his home is through the medium of the play 
Socializing activities. Play is the greatest socializing 
influence influence in his life at this stage of his 

of play. development. Through play he learns the 

limitation of his personal will and power as opposed to 
the social will. The force of public opinion is felt, and 
the child gradually comes to conceive a social order vastly 
higher and more powerful than himself. Yet, through 
the common activities of play, he feels himself a part of 
this social order and participates in it. He finds himself 
necessary at certain points. He sometimes takes the ini- 
tiative and plans and commands. He is learning to lead 
as well as to follow. Out of all these experiences the group 
spirit is having its rise and the concept of the common 
good is taking hold. Loyalty develops, and the child is 
occasionally not only willing but glad to sacrifice himself 
for the success of his group or team. The social bond 
grips him, and he learns that the individual must often 



118 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

give way for the larger good. The child's concept of 
society is broadening, and he is coming to conceive him- 
self as a part of the greater social process. He is becom- 
ing socialized through his play activities. 

But it is not the child alone that needs the recreative 
activities. From one standpoint the adult requires them 
Danger of perhaps even more. Work tends to sober 

losing tiie the individual and make him too solemn 

play spirit. ^^^^ scrious. The lighter and more bhthe- 

some moods drop out and are lost, and in their stead come 
a heaviness and dulness of emotional tone, and with this 
change we feel '^that there hath past away a glory from 
tlie earth." The social impulses have much to do with 
keeping the life fresh and spontaneous, and they are sure 
to atrophy if not used. Many people become so immersed 
in their work that they forget how to play, and can take 
no pleasure in any form of avocation. They even forget 
how to rest, and can only work, eat, and sleep, and then 
repeat the process until their overstrained powers break 
down and they must quit. Such persons miss some of 
the richest and most valuable experiences of life and pre- 
pare themselves for a premature and unhappy old age, 
lacking in interests and barren in resources. 

The moral necessity for avocations is as great as the 
physical, mental, or social. Play is a great incentive to 
Moral ^ correct life and a strong antidote for im- 

necessity morality or dehnquent tendencies. Mor- 

or p ay. |^.^ ^^^^ Unhealthy states of mind give way 

before the counteracting influence of play. Moral dan- 
gers which threaten youth in periods of leisure and 
physical inactivity are greatly lessened, if not wholly re- 
moved, through the interest, enthusiasm, and physical 
weariness accompanying vigorous play. 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 119 

Many cities have found that boys' gangs of predatory 
or criminal nature are readily transformed into peaceful 
Play as a ^^^ efficient base-ball and foot-ball teams, 

remedy for Criminal gangs of boys that have terrorized 
delinquency. certain parts of some of our cities have soon 
been eliminated by the simple expedient of supplying the 
boys with ample opportunity for games and amusements. 
A large proportion of our criminals enter upon a Hfe of 
crime through misdirected energies and impulses, rather 
than from innate criminal tendencies. Cities are learning 
that it is both wiser and cheaper to put money into pubHc 
playgrounds, amusement parks, and recreation centres 
than into criminal courts, reform schools, and peniten- 
tiaries. 

Play is not, as many have thought, antagonistic to 
work. The play impulse and the work impulse are very 
Play not closely related, and each is the complement 

antagonistic of the Other. The play activities are the 
towor . natural and necessary foundation for the 

work activities. No one who does not know what it is 
to work can fully enjoy and profit by play; on the other 
hand, one who has never known what it means to throw 
the whole self into free and unrestricted play will find it 
hard to bring all of his powers to bear upon his work. It 
is in play that the individual first and most naturally 
learns to bring the entire self into action, to use the last 
measure of effort and will-power of which he is capable. 
Play trains to the endurance of fatigue and 

Play trains . . . 

to qualities the bearing of pain and hardship. It accus- 

necessary toms the individual to be generous in a vie- 

to work. . 

tory and strong in defeat. It requires per- 
sonal initiative, quickness of decision, and self-reliance. 
And these quahtieSjWhich are so constantly demanded and 



120 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

so effectively developed through play, are the ones most 
needed in vocational life. Nor will proper play create a 
distaste for work or impatience with its requirements; 
it will rather send the individual back to his vocation, 
not only with recuperated powers, but also with new zest 
and enthusiasm for his work. 



II. Classes of Avocations 

Avocations follow almost as many lines as there are 
varieties of human interests. It is therefore a hopeless 
The many ^^^^ ^^ Undertake any complete and sys- 

varieties of tematic classification of them. It will be 
avocations. serviceable in our present study, however, 
to note a few of the most fundamental groups. Avoca- 
tions may be roughly grouped into four great classes: 
(i) physical, or those growing out of the instinct for con- 
flict, and involving a large measure of physical prowess, 
strength, or skill; (2) mental, or those involving a con- 
test of mind; (3) social, or those resting on the social 
impulse, and including the various social amusements 
and diversions; and (4) incidental, or those resting on 
some personal whim, fad, or fancy, and including any 
line of activity undertaken for diversion. 

It is, of course, evident that these groups are not 
mutually exclusive. Many of the physical avocations 
require great concentration of attention, mental quick- 
ness, and acumen. Mental games usually involve social 
commingling. The social avocations often demand much 
physical activity. And the incidental avocations may 
involve any or all of the others. 

The ages of struggle through which man has passed 
in his evolution have left deeply imbedded in him the 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 121 

love of physical conflict. Especially when young he craves 
the opportunity to exert his strength and to show his 

physical prowess and skill. When there is 
avocations. added to this the competitive element, the 

desire to beat an opponent, and also the 
social element, or the desire for the plaudits of the crowd, 
there is almost no end to the amount of interest and en- 
thusiasm that is aroused. And even when youth has 
passed and the impulse to physical exertion is no longer 
insistent, the desire to watch others in games involving 
combat is still very strong. Hence it is that base-ball 
and foot-ball games between professional teams often call 
together thousands of spectators who are not especially 
interested in one or the other side, but who enjoy the 
battle. So high does this combative spirit run that the 
leading foot-ball player or the champion athlete is a far 
more noted man with many persons than the leading 
scholar in the land. In intercollegiate athletic contests 
the enthusiasm reaches such a point that classes are some- 
times suspended for a day, and more often might as well 
be, in order to celebrate a victory over an opponent. 

The problem of relating the physical avocations to the 
educational aim is a double one. The first aspect of the 
« , X. * problem is to cultivate and keep alive in the 

Relation or T,..,,, ,. ^ , 

physical individual the desire for personal partici- 

avocations to pation in physical games. We have been 

education. . . ^ 

accused by the English of being a nation of 
great patrons of physical sports, but poor sportsmen 
ourselves in physical contests. It is easy to assemble 
almost any number of people to witness an interesting 
game, but most of the onlookers never play any games 
themselves. They attend the game chiefly to satisfy 
their love of conflict, and, while they may be known as 



122 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

great devotees of physical sports, may themselves be 
actually suffering for the -want of exercise. We are rather 
given as a people to hiring a set of professionals to play 
for us while we sit lazily by and watch them. It would 
unquestionably be greatly better if our sports could be 
kept on an amateur basis and professional athletics 
reduced to a minimum or altogether eliminated. 

The recent movement toward introducing a broader and 
more diversified line of physical training and athletics 
Physical ^^^^ ^^^ schools and colleges has tended 

training and to reHeve this phase of the problem some- 
at etics. what. Physical training and participation 

in some line of athletics are now required of all students 
during at least half of the college course in most of the 
higher institutions in the country. The immediate bene- 
fits resulting to health and vigor from general partici- 
pation in physical avocations cannot be overestimated, 
and the less direct but no less important effects in devel- 
oping a personal interest in active participation in games 
and sports is as great. 

The second phase of the problem has to do with main- 
taining a proper balance between physical sports and the 
Maintaining scholastic activities of the school. It is true 
a proper that all reputable schools now have a schol- 

aance. arship requirement imposed on students 

who desire to participate in interschool contests. In spite 
of this fact, however, it is to be feared that the athletic 
spirit sometimes predominates over the scholastic spirit 
in schools. It is, after all, rather an anomaly for several 
hundred college students to hire a special train and go 
one or two hundred miles to witness a base-ball or a foot- 
ball game between their own college and a rival, and it is 
to be feared that this practice is also growing in the high 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 123 

schools. Undoubtedly some advantage accrues to many 
students from the opportunity to visit another institu- 
tion and meet its students. On the other hand, such a 
jaunt cannot help being a serious break in the continuity 
of thought and study supposed to constitute the raison 
d'etre of the school. The amount of money spent by the 
students upon these trips and the standards of expendi- 
ture established constitute another serious aspect of the 
problem. 

While physical games and sports are so necessary a 
part of the life of the school, and while permanent inter- 
play not to ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ avocations needs to be 
usurp the cultivated for its later bearing upon the 

p ace o wor . individual, yet the school must not forget 
that its <great business is, after all, study and schol- 
arship, and not play. Play is to be the avocation and 
not the vocation in the school; it is to be an inciden- 
tal and not the fundamental activity in the student's 
life. 

The mental avocations are closely related to the phys- 
ical avocations in so far as the fundamental impulses 
promptinsr them are concerned. The chief 
avoc^iions. difference is that the physical activity has 
dropped out, and that the play^^f mind in- 
stead of the play of body occupies the centre of the stage. 
The stimulus of competition and the instinct of combat 
are still present, and not infrequently the influence of 
pubUc opinion and social appreciation accentuate the 
interest in the game. This group of avocations is not so 
important as an immediate school problem as are those 
based on physical activities, since interest in mental 
games as supplanting physical games is rather late in its 
origin. 



124 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

The mental avocations are related, on the one hand, to 
the scientific pursuits, in which the play of mind comes to 
Nature of ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ itself; and, on the other hand, 

mental to the type of combat involved in the busi- 

avoca ons. ^^^^^ pursuits, where the opponent is not 
attacked physically, but is vanquished with the weapons 
of the mind. 

The child first shows a developing interest in mental 
games when he begins to concern himself with the solu- 
tion of conundrums, acrostics, and various 
games. Other puzzlcs; the different games played 

with cards, checkers, chess, and such games, 
in which mental quickness, memory, invention, daring, 
successful judging of an opponent, and concentrated 
attention are the necessary attributes constituting the 
group of mental avocations. 

Closely related to the mental avocations are the games 
of chance, which are often an outgrowth of games other- 
wise harmless. The gaming impulse is all 
chance. ° ^^^ universal in the human family. Care 

should therefore be exercised in the educa- 
tion of children that their mental games do not lead in 
the direction of gambling, which is the bane of so many 
lives, from those who patronize the nickel-in-the-slot 
machines or the cheap faro game to those who play the 
no less debasing games of high finance. 

The social avocations have their rise, first, in the gre- 
garious instinct, which prompts people to assemble to- 
gether, and, second, in the desire and need 
avocations. ^^^ diversion and amusement. It is true 
that the social impulse plays an important 
part in the groups of avocations just described, but there 
exists a tendency to flock together in larger groups, and 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 125 

perhaps in different groups from those in which we play 
our games. In the larger group assembled for social di- 
versions or amusements, the rules of the game are no less 
strict than in the case of our physical and mental games, 
for they consist of the social conventions, than which 
there are no rules more strict. 

In addition to the stimulus and enjoyment experienced 
from association with the large crowd or group usually 
Part played assembled for social amusement, no small 
by the social part of the pleasure comes from the oppor- 
"°^" ^®* tunity to mingle on intimate terms with a 

few chosen friends among the larger crowd. Not infre- 
quently also sex attraction plays a large part in this type 
of avocations. Young people pair off for the occasion, or 
at least have the privilege of each other's company, thus 
adding another incentive to participation in the social 
diversions. 

The deep-seated and universal nature of the impulse 

prompting to the social diversions may be judged from 

the important part played by this form of 

The universal . r r- ^ ^ 

appeal of avocation. It includes all classes and ages 

social Qf people. The children beg for their par- 

diversions. , . 

ties and the old settlers have their reunions. 
The rustic party and the country dance, in common with 
the exclusive reception or ball, are an outgrowth of the 
desire of people to mingle together in their fun and 
amusements. To gratify this impulse millions of dollars 
each year are spent on our amusement places, the public 
parks, summer gardens, theatres, and other means of 
social diversion. 

The social avocations touch the problem of education 
specifically with reference to the question of the t3^e of 
such amusements and diversions which shall be engaged 
in by young people. For it is inevitable that young peo- 



126 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

pie will have some form of social amusement; further, it 
is right and necessary that they should have. The ques- 
Points of ^^^^ ^^' ^^^^' what shall be the t3T>e of this 

contact with amusement, and, second, what shall be the 
education. amount? Many of the amusement places in 

our cities which seek to attract boys and girls constitute 
a menace to morahty. Nor is the country town with its 
dearth of amusements of any kind on much safer ground. 
The social impulse is very insistent in youth, and the 
young people will be together on the streets if there is 
no opportunity to mingle for diversion in social groups. 
It is far safer and better for them to associate with each 
other under conditions in which the proper social conven- 
tions obtain as a standard for conduct. 

The problem is not yet solved of supplying suitable so- 
cial amusements that shall afford reasonable opportu- 
nity for young men and maidens to associate 

Problem , '' . / ^ i , 

of social m social groups under proper cnaperonage, 

amusements g^^d where they can learn to observe and 

in the school. , , i , t • i 

be at ease under the social conventions. 
Various high schools are beginning to take this problem 
up and assume the function of ministering to and guiding 
the social impulses of their students through social enter- 
tainments given under the auspices of the school. In hun- 
dreds of towns and villages throughout the country the 
school-house could profitably be made into a social as well 
as a scholastic centre, the school thereby exercising a help- 
ful influence over the avocational life of its pupils. 
Danger of '^^^ question of the proportion of time de- 

waste of time voted to social amusements constitutes a 
and attention, gerious problem in many schools. For not 
infrequently young people take the matter into their own 
hands and organize social functions with little restraint 
from parents and no supervision on the part of the 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 127 

school. The result in many communities has been a 
multiplication of social clubs, societies, parties, dances, 
and other forms of social amusement without end. Of 
course, this excess of the avocational interferes with 
the regular activities of the school in no small degree. 
The solution of this phase of the problem will have to 
come through the co-operation of the home and the school 
in seeking to limit and properly control social amuse- 
ments without eliminating them. 

The incidental avocations rest chiefly on certain per- 
sonal or subjective impulses which prompt the individual 

to take up some line of interesting occupa- 
avocations. ^^^^ purely as a diversion, and not with a 

view to profiting from the effort expended. 
In this sense all such occupations partake of the nature 
of play, which finds its full explanation and end in the 
activity itself and counts any practical results achieved 
as purely incidental. It matters not that the occupation 
undertaken as an avocation may constitute a vocation 
for others. The test is not in the nature of the activity 
but in its motive and spirit. 

The great value of the incidental avocations is that they 
lead to change and variety without idleness. For the 
Value of ^^^^ ^^^^ often comes, not from idleness, but 

incidental from change of occupation. Many persons 

avocations. ^^^ ^^^q to forget their vocation with all its 
perplexing worries and problems far better in congenial 
and interesting employment than in social diversions or 
in physical or mental games. Such incidental occupations 
also have the great advantage of permitting the develop- 
ment of permanent and worthy interests in lines of activ- 
ity that may result in much lasting personal growth or 
satisfaction. In addition, it not infrequently happens 



128 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

that the incidental results or products of certain incidental 
avocations have a real value. 

There is no limit to the lines of occupation open to 

those who seek incidental avocations; for almost every 

vocation may, under right conditions, be- 

Many lines •" , ° . ' , 

open to come some one s avocation. It is probably 

incidental ^101 possible to State any rigid principle upon 

which the choice of an avocational occupa- 
tion should rest, but at least three fundamental consid- 
erations are involved: the avocation chosen should be 
adapted to the interests, physical powers, and financial 
ability of the individual; it should be of such nature that 
it will allow growth of skill and will call forth worthy 
and permanent interests; it should be different enough 
from the regular vocation of the person to furnish a com- 
plete diversion because of the change of activity afforded. 
For example, a stock-jobber runs a fancy farm as an in- 
cidental avocation; a professional linguist is an authority 
on birds; a celebrated actress raises blooded chickens; 
a banker is a craftsman of ability; an author dabbles in 
chemistry; a university professor is an enthusiast over 
motorcylces. Each of these workers secures great satis- 
faction from his avocation, and does better work in his 
vocation because of his incidental occupation. 

The incidental avocations touch the educational aim 
less closely than certain other avocations, but yet are 
Incidental ^7 ^^ nieans divorced from it. It is the 

avocations business of the school to cultivate as broad 

and education. ^ jj^^ ^£ permanent interests as possible. 

Some one of these interests should lead to a vocation; 
and others of them should serve to point the direction 
for desirable avocations. Nor is it rare that a line of ac- 
tivity taken up in early youth as an incidental avocation 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 129 

has led to its acceptance as the vocation for which the 
individual's interests and capacities were best adapted. 



///. The School and Its Avocations 

Concluding our discussion, we may say, then, that the 

school cannot escape the problem of the avocations. For 

the school has the individual at the time 

cannot avoid when the avocational is playing the largest 

the problem pg^j-^- {^ ^-j^g ]^{q ^^d when the avocational 

of avocations. , ^ ■, ^ i • i i i 

interests and standards are being developed. 
The school should therefore both teach the child suitable 
avocations and inculcate a love for them. It should afford 
an opportunity for active participation in the avocations 
best adapted to the age and development of its pupils. 
Above all, the school should stand for true sportsmanship 
— for absolute honesty and a spirit of generosity and ap- 
preciation toward opponents. Further, the school must 
help the individual to distinguish clearly between voca- 
tion and avocation. Work is not play, any more than 
play is work. And all attempts to make education result 
from a set of play exercises are not only doomed to fail- 
ure, but they also lead to false standards and attitudes of 
the individual toward work. Work and play must there- 
fore not be confused; they are complementary, and not 
synonymous. The centre of the schooFs interests and 
activities must be its scholastic work, and not its ath- 
letics, its parties, or its clubs. These are all necessary 
and good, but they are the incidental, and must not usurp 
the place of the fundamental. 

Such, then, in brief outline, is the social process, con- 
sisting of the modes of social participation open to the 



130 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

individuaL It is made up of all the varied experiences of 
men as they live and work and play together. It includes 

all the manifold activities constituting the 
soc^Tprocessf social institutions. It includes the work of 

man as, through his vocations, he carries 
his environment constantly upward and increases and 
tempers his own powers. It also includes man's play, 
by which he rests from his work, brightens the more sober 
aspects of his experience, and recuperates his powers. 

This social process is what man makes it; it is his 
creation. His powers and capacities define its scope and 

limitations. His impulses and needs supply 
makes™^^ its motive force. The social process is 

therefore man's measure in the large, the 
measure of the composite man. Its glories and achieve- 
ments are a tribute to man's greatness; its follies and 
weakness are a proof of his imperfections; and its slow 
but sure progress toward a higher ideal is a warrant of 
his essential divinity. 

Not only is the social process man's creation, it is also 
his opportunity and his nemesis. Without it he can do 
His oppor- nothing or be nothing. It envelops his life, 

tunity and stimulates him, offers every inducement for 

nemesis. ^j^^ exercise of his powers, and richly rewards 

him for his contributions to its welfare. But it is also 
relentless and cruel if it fails. Let him refuse to accept 
the gifts that society so freely offers him, neglecting to 
educate himself or develop his powers, and the social 
process sweeps on past him; he is punished for his in- 
efficiency by being dropped behind in the race of progress. 
Let him rebel against the social order, setting his hand 
against tradition, law, and order, and he suffers retribu- 
tion through social ostracism and the prison. 



AVOCATIONAL MODES OF EXPERIENCE 131 

Man in the aggregate is too great and powerful for 
man the individual. The sum total of human lives which 
The social ^^ have called the social process sets the 

process standard, gives the direction, and defines 

contros. ^^^ requirements for the individual Hfe- 

process. The individual must fit into the greater social 
order. Nor does this limit the possibiHties for the indi- 
vidual; for man is at his greatest and best when he is 
so directing his own life-process that it may become a vital 
and significant part of the larger stream of social life, to 
the end that both shall be the richer for this mutual re- 
lationship. This is man's highest and greatest opportu- 
nity. To bring about this end is the sole function of edu- 
cation. All that accomplishes this end is education, and 
nothing else is. 

Education, therefore, not only has its origin in the 

social process, but leads its product back to it. It has 

no meaning except as it fits the individual 

Education r • i i.* • a* • i • 

originates in ^ ^^ social participation m an ever-changing 
and leads back set of social activities. And this can be 
proce^ss.^"^ done only by leading him to identify his 
growing experience with the broader social 
experience; by causing the individual life-process to 
become an integral and vital part of the social process; 
that is, by socializing the powers and capacities of the 
individual. 

The nature of the individual's powers and capacities, 
through whose activities he fulfils his own destiny and 
becomes a participant in the social process, will consti- 
tute the next phase of our study. 



132 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



REFERENCES 

Addams, The Spirit of Youth and the City Streets; Bagley, 
Educational Values, ch. XIII; Forbush, The Boy Problem; 
Groos, The Play of Man; Gulick, Mind and Work; Hall, Youth, 
chs. V, VI; also The Story of a Sand Pile; Hill, Athletics and 
Outdoor Sports for Women; Mangold, Child Problems, Book II, 
chs. I, II; McKenzie, Exercise in Education and Medicine; 
Mero, American Playgrounds; Newell, Games and Songs of 
American Children. 



PART III 
SOCIALIZING THE INDIVIDUAL 

CHAPTER VIII 
THE POY/ERS AND CAPACITIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

/. The Social Nature of Individual Powers and 
Capacities 

In our study of the social process we were viewing 

society in its dynamic or functional aspect. We were 

The social Concerned with social activities rather than 

process with social structure. And these activities, 

experience^- Constituting as they do the social process, 

process of the are but the combined and interrelated life- 

"^ ^^^ " * processes of the individuals making up the 

membership of society. Hence it is that the social process 

owes its nature and takes its color and trend from the 

character of the powers and capacities of the individual. 

Each of the various modes of the social process has its 

counterpart in the fundamental nature of the individual. 

All that is made explicit in the social activities must 

originally be implicit in the individual. 

^ , , Nor is this merely a one-sided relation- 

Powers of the 1 . r 1 1 . . - , 

individual ship, for the powcrs and capacities of the 

shaped in the individual havc come to be what they are 

social process. , . . ... , 

because of his social participation. What 
was implicit in him through original nature has become 

133 



134 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

explicit through the necessities forced upon him by eco- 
nomic necessity and his social relationships; through his 
membership in family, church, and state; through the vo- 
cation by which he took his part in the world's work and 
made his contribution to social progress; and through the 
avocations by means of which he received development 
and diversion — in these ways were man's powers and 
capacities wrought out and brought to their present form. 
The social process has made man, as he in turn makes the 
social process. 

The powers and capacities of the individual are there- 
fore what he has to invest in the social activities of his 
rr.^ . J. .J . day. They are the measure of the contri- 

The individxial ,.11 . ^ 

the measure bution that he may make to society. On 
®^ ^^.^H;}^. the other hand, if they are not developed, 

possibilities. ' •' . , . 

or if they are exerted against the interests 
of society, the powers and capacities of the individual 
are the measure of what society may lose through the 
failure of the individual to fulfil his function as a partici- 
pant in the social process. Looked at from the stand- 
point of the individual himself, his powers and capacities 
are a measure of what he may sacrifice as a person if he 
fails to fulfil his destiny in the full realization of the self. 
This point of view shows the necessity of next entering 
upon an analysis of the powers and capacities of the indi- 
N t f th vidual with a view to discovering what in 
powers and the individual education has to work upon 
th^^*^d^°^d°^ in fitting him into the social process. The 
powers and capacities of the individual 
might be classified and described from a number of dif- 
ferent standpoints, but the biological will perhaps best 
serve the purpose in the present study. From the biolog- 
ical standpoint the powers and capacities of the individual 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 135 

may be divided into powers and capacities (i) for im- 
pression, (2) for interpretation, and (3) for control or 
adjustment. 

//. Capacities for Impression 

The capacity to receive and respond to impressions is 
a fundamental biological necessity. It lies at the basis 
Impression a ^^ ^^^ adaptation and control, and hence 
fundamental conditions development. Avoiding the 
capacity. philosophical squabble of the sensationaKst 

and the nominalist we may agree that from the biological 
standpoint no environment exists for any organism ex- 
cept that from which it receives impressions. To the 
organism lacking a mechanism for vision luminiferous 
ether is non-existent and Hght and color form no part of 
experience. To one not possessing an organ for hearing, 
sound has no being or reality. Likewise the lack of a 
social sense would eliminate all social concepts and rob 
experience of its social values. 

In this sense no individual ever enters into a ready- 
made environment. His world of physical objects may 
^ . be rich and varied, but to him it contains 

Environment i i • ' m- 

limited by omy what impresses itself upon mm. He 

capacity for j^g^y be surrounded by a multitude of living, 

impression. , . 

responsive personalities, but yet lack for 
comradeship if impervious to social stimuli. He may live 
and move and have his being in a God who to him has 
no reality if he is devoid of religious sensibility. Each 
individual creates his own environment through receiv- 
ing its impressions and responding to them. It cannot be 
created for him, nor be thrust upon him. He himself, in 
his capacities for impression, measures its scope and 
determines its nature. 



136 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

On the other hand, the individual's capacity for im- 
pression, his abihty to be affected by his environment, did 
Environment ^^^ come by chance, nor was it presented to 
shapes him out of hand without responsibility on 

capaci les. j^.^ ^^^ part. On the contrary, it is only 

by the reaction of the organism to its environment that 
these capacities develop. A varied and insistent environ- 
ment demands a corresponding complexity of response; 
but adaptive response is conditioned by the range and 
validity of impressions. Hence the capacity for impres- 
sions is evolved out of the necessities and wants of the 
individual as related to his environment. It is in the 
press of the daily life and experience that they have their 
origin and growth. 

The place of an organism in the scale of creation may 
be determined by its capacity for impressions. For it is 
only through the broad environment made 
depends^n^ possible by a wide range of impressions that 
response to a Sufficient variety of reactions can be ob- 
envkonment. tained to secure successful Kving. The in- 
dividual that is capable of responding to a 
simple, constant environment alone is limited to a cor- 
respondingly narrow and monotonous experience. Stated 
from the alternative side, progress in evolution is both 
dependent upon and measured by the scope of environ- 
ment. Only a diverse and inconstant environment affords 
the stimuli requiring the range of capacity for impressions 
that goes with the higher forms of Hfe. 

In the lowest ranges of Hfe where a blind 
impressions. teleology prevails, the capacity for impres- 
sions is limited chiefly or wholly to the phys- 
ical. In man it has risen to the spiritual. The objects 
about us do not affect us merely as physical objects. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 137 

but their social values also appeal to us. It is not alone 
the physical form of people that impresses us, but their 
spiritual significance as well. It is not only nature that 
speaks to us, but, back of nature, God. Nor are these two 
types of impressions separate and isolated from each 
other in experience. The opposite is rather the case, and 
the two can seldom be separated though they are per- 
fectly distinct. For purposes of description and dis- 
cussion, however, it will be found serviceable to speak 
of the capacity for impressions under the two heads of 
(i) impressions from physical objects, and (2) spiritual 
impressions. 

The capacity for receiving impressions from the phys- 
ical world lies at the basis of all other capacities. Out 
of the fusion of the sensory quahties of 
director material objects our perceptual world is 

physical evolvcd. The related or logical world, the 

impressions. 1 1 <• . . u r 

world of meaning, rests upon a world 01 
fact, a world organized out of sensory impressions. One 
comes to the social nature of man only through an inter- 
pretation of impressions received from the physical ex- 
pression of his social nature. God is to be apprehended 
first of all through impressions coming to us from his 
work in nature and man. Capacity for impression is 
therefore a measure of the amount of raw material 
from his environment available to the individual out of 
whose interpretation he is to develop power of adjust- 
ment and control. 

. At his best man has organs developed to re- 

Umited in the spond to the touch of physical environment 
range of his Qj^jy Qygj. ^ small fraction of the range of the 
physical stimuli available. The eye responds 
to the physical energy in the form of ether waves provid- 
ing they come at the rate of not less than four hundred 



138 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

and fifty billions nor more than seven hundred and ninety 
billions a second. Below and above these rates all is 
darkness to the eye, although it is well known that lumi- 
niferous ether vibrates in waves much below and above 
these rates. It is interesting to speculate on the multi- 
plied range of colors that would be visible to the human 
eye if its capacity for impressions from ether waves were 

to be doubled or trebled. The eye is also 
oHhe^eye.^ limited as to its range for distance. Its 

power of accommodation to focusing for dis- 
tance lies between eight inches and two hundred and ten 
feet, while even luminous objects at great distance create 
absolutely no impression. To remedy this defect, man 
has invented the telescope, which has enabled him to 
discover worlds beyond worlds. But he has not reached 
the end even with his most perfect telescopes added to 
the power of his eye. The eye is limited in receiving im- 
pressions from objects of minute size. Molecules and 
atoms exist as creations of the mind in its effort to explain 
nature, but vision is helpless in the atomic and molecular 
realm. The eye can receive impressions from the world 
of plants about us, but the whole myriad universe of 
micro-organisms is utterly beyond its ken. The influ- 
ence on human history can hardly be imagined if man's 
eye could not only supplant but even go beyond the 
best microscopes and receive impressions from the infi- 
nitely small. 

The human ear receives impressions from waves in the 
air providing the vibratory rate lies between about twenty 

and forty thousand per second. Below and 
ofThe^ear!^ above this rate all is silence, although no 

trouble is experienced in producing vibra- 
tory waves in the air much slower or faster than these 
rates. If the ear were tuned to receive impressions from 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 139 

rates of air waves up to one hundred thousand a second, 
our range for the musical scale would be almost infinitely 
increased, both in range and complexity, and harmonies 
and melodies now undreamt of would be possible. Like- 
wise, if the ear could receive impressions from the air 
waves of less amplitude than is now required, the range 
of distance of hearing would be increased. A man's ear 
might then take the place of the telephone or the tele- 
graph. 

So this line of illustration might be carried out for all 

the physical senses. Each of the end organs of sense is 

specifically adapted to receive impressions 

other^senses! ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ stimulus and that alone, 
and only over a limited range of the scope 
and intensity of the stimulus. Further than this, there 
are probably great ranges of physical stimuli for which 
man has no end organs at all, and hence from which he 
cannot receive any impression. It is known that there 
are certain animals, such as pigeons with their homing 
sense, that far excel man in various sensory powers. In- 
deed, evidence is not lacking that some animals possess 
sensory organs of which man has no counterpart. 

It is seen, therefore, that man at his best is capable of 
receiving impressions from only a fraction of the universe 
Nature is ^^ ^^^ physical. This capacity is often still 

imperfectly further limited by imperfections of the 
interpreted. sensory organs. It thus seems that man, 
with all his boasted powers and his abiHty to pry into 
the secrets of nature, is, after all, but imperfectly able 
to meet and interpret the physical world. 

The limitations imposed upon us by the small range of 
our senses, or by their imperfections, may be still further 
increased by lack of training in attentive observation. 



140 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

For no matter how perfect the organ, and how well it is 
attuned to its stimulus, no fruitful impression results ex- 
Need for ^^P^ ^^ ^ product of attention to the stimu- 
training in lus. Gathering impressions from every side 

observation. r * t_i • j • j. * • j 

of a richly varied environment is in some de- 
gree an art. The impulse of curiosity pushes the child out 
to challenge the secrets of his environment, and the native 
demand of his mind to know that which surrounds it 
compels him to an attitude of inquiry. But it is a great 
problem that the child is attacking when he steps out to 
master the material world, one that the race itself has 
not yet more than made a beginning upon. Much time 
may be saved the learner, his interest and enthusiasm 
may be conserved, and the results of his efforts made more 
fruitful by directing him into the most fruitful fields of 
observation and teaching him its method and technique. 
As the individual masters the perceptual world and 
becomes possessed of an increasing fund of thought 

material, the impression side of experience 
for percep- has a tendency to diminish in amount and 
tionto importance. The law of mental economy 

decrease. . , 

demands that all conscious impressions shall 
ultimately be reduced to the lowest elements that will 
serve as thought terms or symbols for adjustment. When 
the child is constructing a new percept he is prompted by 
curiosity and interest to discover every sensory quality 
that inheres in the object. He must see it, handle it, 
taste it, smell it, and use it in every available way. But 
finally this percept is no longer new; it does not appeal 
to interest and curiosity, and therefore claims attention 
only to the degree that enables it to serve its function 
in the thought process or in directing adjustment. It 
is when the percept has reached this stage that the im- 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 141 

pression phase is reduced to a minimum, and its meaning 
or interpretation constitutes its chief interest. Observa- 
tion and attention fall away, the perceptual phase of 
environment is losing its significance, and its relational 
or meaning phase is gaining ground. 

But it is not necessary that these two phases of experi- 
ence shall be set so sharply in contrast. There is no con- 
flict between them except in the matter of 

Interest in the , , 

perceptual mental economy, and economy may some- 

world may times well give way for other values. The 

be retained. i • i • • i i i i 

sunset may serve the individual as a symbol 
for closing the day's work and going to his evening meal, 
without losing its power to impress him just as a beautiful 
sunset with its glory of color. The first twitter of birds, 
the bursting of buds, and feel of spring in the air may 
retain distinct values of their own, besides serving as re- 
minders that it is time to be planting the garden. Water- 
falls may still have a value merely as water-falls, in addi- 
tion to their being computed in units of motive power. 
The beautiful valley, or park, or cathedral may retain 
its freshness and beauty, though we have seen it a thou- 
sand times. The secret is to keep the capacity for im- 
pressions ahve by constant use and to accept the physical 
world about us in its perceptual value, as well as in its 
value as symbols for adjustment. 

Social impressions come to us indirectly from physical 

objects, persons, or the symbols of literature and art. 

. , No object of our environment is a physical 

Capacity for . . ■' i . n r .i r / 

indirect or object per se, but all from the nrst possess 

social a social value. The child, in the process of 

impressions. . , . , , i i • . 

constructing his perceptual world, is not 
impressed with objects merely as objects, but with objects- 
as-used-by-people. His perception of color, form, time, 



142 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

and space all grows out of a social setting. His world is 
primarily not a physical world, but a social world. Thus 
we do not proceed from a physical to a social environ- 
ment, but from a social to a physical. 

And social values continue to predominate. A watch 
is more than a register of passing time: it possesses social 
Social values values through conforming to certain social 
the most Standards as to material, size, and shape; 

fun amenta . .^ ^j^^ points the time for going to our meals, 
meetings, or other social engagements. Our homes are 
prized not chiefly because of their physical attributes, 
but for values that come from those with whom we share 
them. Our clothing is selected not so much for its phys- 
ical comfort as for its conformity to the decree of fashion 
governing those of our social plane. Good or bad weather 
even impresses us indirectly rather than directly; it is 
not primarily a thing-in-itself, but rather relates itself to 
our social activities, helping or hindering our affairs. 

This means that our direct impressions, or those coming 
from physical objects, are all profoundly influenced by 

Physical values ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ social values. Without 
rest on social these social or indirect impressions the phys- 
vaues. j^^j world would have Httle meaning or 

worth. Through them the physical objects about us 
cease to be mere trees, animals, or buildings, and come 
to be saturated with social significance. Nor is there any 
limit to the amount of social value and meaning that may 
come to be deposited in physical stimuH. Compared 
with the social significance, the intrinsic or physical value 
of objects becomes insignificant. Family heirlooms of 
small economic worth are beyond evaluing in commercial 
terms because of their social worth. Gifts are prized out 
of all proportion to their cost, because they take on our 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 143 

valuation of the giver. Men freely offer their lives to 
rescue from an enemy a bit of bunting bearing the emblem 
of their country. Indeed, the whole structure of economic 
and material values rests on a foundation of social needs 
and desires. After the satisfaction of the most elementary 
appetites connected with hunger and sex, man's whole 
world of values may be said to depend on his capacity 
for receiving and responding to social impressions. Ad- 
vancement in social evolution may well be measured 
in terms of man's ability to conceive the physical world 
in social terms, to look on the material, not as an end in 
itself, but as a means for attaining the spiritual. 

The capacity for social impressions rests on the social 
impulse inherent in all normal persons. It is, however. 
Cultivation of susceptible of cultivation, and must be in- 
the social cludcd in the educational aim. As a nation, 

imp se. America is not so richly endowed with so- 

cial stimuli coming from historical personages, places, 
objects, and events as is the case with older nations. And 
these things constitute one of the great educational assets 
of a people. The battle-fields upon which England won 
her civil and religious liberty, the homes of her Shake- 
speares and Tennysons, her palaces, and even her prisons, 
the memory of her Miltons and Cromwells, her historic 
places and objects of high heroism or splendid sacrifice, 
and the record of her centuries of great achievement — 
all this is an educative factor in the lives of her youth 
hardly to be estimated. 

America lack- Social values have not taken hold so 
ing in social strongly in our own country, with its rela- 
tively short past and its broad geographical 
expanse. We have less of historical perspective and of 
social tradition. Comparatively few spots have been made 



144 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

sacred by great national events. Not many pilgrimages 
are yet made to the homes of great men and women of 
former generations. This is not because America has not 
had her great events, her historic places, and her illus- 
trious personages. It is rather that the bigness and in- 
sistence of the present, and the lack of a wealth of social 
traditions, makes us careless of these values. Material 
wealth is to be had for the asking. The riches of the soil, 
the wealth of the mines, and the roar of the factories 
exert a constant appeal, and tend at last to occupy the 
focal point of attention. Respect for the past and alle- 
giance to social tradition are not therefore strong traits in 
our national character. Historical personages exert com- 
paratively little appeal to the minds of youth. Historic 
places and objects command small interest and little 
respect. Ideal, or indirect, values cannot be listed in 
commercial terms, and hence are likely to be left out of 
account. Railways, mines, and factories are in danger 
of becoming an end instead of a means. The sense for 
social values needs to be cultivated in our youth. 

While, as we have seen, the whole of our environment 
conveys in some degree social impressions, yet the most 
,-r . ^ X. immediate and effective source of social 
social stimuu impressions is found in personalities. We 
inhere m ^j.q most keenly sensitive to that which we 

personalities. 

are most like, and it is, after all, people and 
not things that we most fully respond to. The social in 
us goes out to the most vitally social about us, and we are 
impressed more by the human than by the material part 
of our surroundings. 

But personalities may exist in either ideal or in real 
form. They may inhere in the people with whom we act- 
ually mingle and associate, or they may be conceived by 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 145 

the artist or the writer and made concrete in a painting, 
a statue, or a character in Hterature. Since these ideal 
Real and characters are not subject to the Hmitations 

ideal of human nature, they may be endowed 

personauties. ^^ ^j^^-^. (.j-g^tor with any combination of 

quahties of personahty, and may possess these qualities 
in any 'degree whatever. The only limitation is that the 
personality represented must not be overdrawn to the ex- 
tent of losing the natural or human aspect. For once 
this is done, the character has nothing in common with 
us, and hence fails to impress us. 

The capacity to receive and be influenced by ideal per- 
sonalities expressed through the symbolism of art and 
language constitutes one of the most potent 
aiities repre- opportunities for education. Through this 
sented in art capacity the great personalities of literature, 

and literature. ,. "^ ". , .^i* 

history, and biography may exert their en- 
nobling influence on the Uves of those of other times and 
places. In this way, the greatest of human quahties are 
made the common property of the race, and the thoughts 
and feelings that actuated men and women of other ages, 
or even men and women who never had existence except 
as creatures of the mind of artist or writer, may come to 
serve as motives in the lives of to-day. And, indeed, 
it is upon this universal social sense that the unity of 
the race and the continuity of culture depend. Upon 
this sense rests our feeHng of kinship with past genera- 
tions and our feeHng of responsibility for those that 
are to come after. 

Influence of ^^ ^^^ other hand, the capacity to re- 

the evil in ceive social impressions from personalities 

personauties. j^ ^^^ limited to the better quahties of hu- 
man nature ; the undesirable may impress itself equally 



146 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

with the desirable. Hence the evil influence that comes 
to the child from the criminal or the morally tainted char- 
acter often portrayed in trashy literature, or from the 
pictures of doubtful moral standard. Sometimes through 
conscious imitation, and often through the unconscious 
influence of suggestion, the qualities of character thus 
portrayed build themselves into the personality and 
conduct of the child. With these facts in mind, the 
selection of the personalities from literature and art 
which are to have a part in the education of the child 
becomes a matter of prime importance. 

But the most potent source of social impressions is, 
after all, from the actual people about us, the human com- 
panionship that environs us from day to 
the most day. Life is appealed to more quickly by 

potent social jjfg than by symbols, no matter how skil- 

influence. . ,. , ■, ^ •, ■, i m n 

fully these may be employed ; the child s 
playmates and companions, and his associations in the 
home, are a greater formative influence in his development 
than are the ideal characters of his books and pictures, 
important as these are. Principles and ideals, no matter 
how true or exalted, have relatively little power either in 
forming or reforming human nature until they are made 
concrete in a living personality. Hence it is that all great 
social movements, whether in politics, religion, education, 
or any other line, are led by some man or woman whose 
life embodies in concrete form the principles for which 
the movement stands. The splendid theories of Bacon, 
Locke, Comenius, and Montaigne had to be exemplified 
in the life of Pestalozzi, the teacher, before their effect 
was felt; only when God had revealed himself in the per- 
son of Jesus did man grasp the fuller concept of God's 
relation to him. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 147 

One of the highest arts is that of correctly interpreting 
those about us. Nor is it an art possessed in large degree 
Need of cor- ^y ^^^' ^^ often know Very incompletely, 
rsctiy inter- and often judge very falsely, even those 
preting ot ers. ^.^j^ whom we daily associate and whom we 
know best. Most of the misunderstandings among people 
are from simple failure to understand each other; and 
this denseness of comprehension grows out of a lack of 
social sensitivity, the ability skilfully to read the natural 
or conventional signs by which we express our thoughts, 
feelings, or attitudes. 

The capacity for social impressions is susceptible of 

fruitful cultivation. There exists no science of human 

. , nature, it is true, from which may be de- 

Capacity for . . i i i i t i 

social values duced the principles and rules to be appned 
°^^y ^® , in arriving at a knowledge of those about us. 

cultivated. __ . ° , i . i i 

Yet changing mental attitudes and emo- 
tions are constantly finding expression in the mobile face, 
the eye, and the bodily posture. There is constantly 
being spoken before the eye a language of surpassing 
variety and richness, the delicate shadings of whose mean- 
ings are lost upon those illiterate in these forms of natural 
speech, and upon those who are too careless to observe. 
Thought is being expressed through the medium of a 
spoken language capable of revealing the finest shades 
of meaning. The flexibihty of spoken language is still 
further increased by means of the various qualities, shad- 
ings, and inflections of the voice, and by many other 
tricks of speech too refined in their import to be possible 
of explanation. The mastery of all this great complexity 
of expression is no small task. It must first of all be 
motived by a strong desire to come to know and under- 
stand others. It requires the habit of observation of 



148 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

those about us, and the most careful attention to the 
modes of physical expression by which mental self is 
revealed. 



///. Capacities for Interpretation 

Impressions are not an end in themselves. The natural 
outcome of all impression is response with reference to 

some environmental situation. But in order 
kttpression ^^^^ ^^^ response shall be intelligent, the 
to secure impressions received must be correctly in- 

res^pon^e. terpreted. That is, their relations must be 

discovered, and their meanings known; 
their value must be weighed, and their importance esti- 
mated. Interpretation thus stands as the middle term 
between impression and response, between contact with 
environment and adjustment to it. It seizes upon the 
different impressions gathered by the mind from its en- 
vironment and uses them as data out of which to con- 
struct symbols for action. Upon the validity of interpre- 
tation, therefore, as much as upon fulness and accuracy 
of impression, depends successful control with reference 
to environment. 

The interpretation of our environment lies in two broad 
fields, which, while always interrelated, are perfectly dis- 
Two broad tinct. Interpretation is (i) in terms of 
fields of knowledge, leading to science; and (2) in 

interpretation. |-gj.j^g ^f feeling, leading to appreciation of 

values. Neither is possible without the other, and both 
together are required in successful control of the ex- 
perience-process. We will therefore proceed to examine 
more fully these two types of interpretation. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 149 

What is knowledge? What is its origin, and what its 
end? A formal definition of knowledge will be of little 
Interpretation Service in our discussion, since its general 
(i) in terms of meaning is as well known as that of any 

owe ge. terms in which it might be defined. The 
question of the origin and end of knowledge will, however, 
repay some consideration. 

Knowledge is the perception of truth. But truth is 
always concrete and never abstract. Truth, so far as the 
Concrete finite mind can know it, is not an invention 

nature of of that mind ; it is rather a discovery by 

ow e ge. ^^^^ mind. And there is no such thing as a 
truth which is separated from the concrete situations of 
experience. Likewise knowledge, or the perception of 
truth, arises in the first place out of the demands of some 
concrete problem of experience which requires solution. 
The ancients were confronted nightly by the glittering 
heavens, the fact of day and night, the change of seasons 
— and astrology grew up; and out of that astronomy. 
People all through the race's history have sickened and 
died, disease has been a constant and insistent fact de- 
manding explanation; and the science of medicine has 
been evolved. The Nile overflows its banks, washing 
away the landmarks; and the science of geometry is the 
result. 

While it is true that we have what we call '' abstract 
truth," ''pure sciences," and ''knowledge for its own 
No knowledge Sake," yet as a matter of fact there is no 
for its own such thing. There is no truth so abstract 
^^ ®" that it does not somewhere fit into the great 

mosaic of truth that touches men's lives; nor would the 
delvers after truth long continue to dig were there not the 
stimulus of society, welcoming all truth, not as an abstrac- 



150 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

tion, but as somehow related to the day's experience. 
Nor is there any science so ''pure" that it does not some- 
how, sometime, play into the hands of some other science 
which, in turn, guides men in the business of living. 
Further, there can be no knowledge "for its own sake." 
The very essence of knowledge is its meaning; and knowl- 
edge having existence only for the sake of existing, that 
is, knowledge for its own sake, would lack all meaning. 

Knowledge, therefore, has had its origin in human ex- 
perience, especially in human needs, or the crucial points 
of experience. And, since experience is 

Social nature r. • ^ • i i i j t_ a. 

of knowledge, chieily social, knowledge has grown up out 
of the demands of the social process and 
finds its function in guiding that process. It is when 
society becomes organized and complex that the crises 
arise demanding knowledge. When cities and bridges 
and canals and aqueducts must be built, then knowledge 
must grapple with the crucial situations. When increas- 
ing population threatens to exhaust the natural resources, 
science must arise to direct the conservation of these 
resources. 

Now it naturally follows that, since knowledge has its 
origin in the problems confronted in the concrete situa- 
tions arising in society, so its end or func- 

Social function .- • i. j* ^ • ^.i. • i t^ • 

of knowledge. ^^^^ ^^ ^^ direct m the social process. It is 
through knowledge that man is able to mas- 
ter his environment, and hence control the processes of 
his own experience. True it is that isolated bits of knowl- 
edge are discovered now and then which seem to have 
no bearing whatever in a practical way upon human wel- 
fare. But such is not ultimately the case. Our vision 
is at best but a partial vision, and our view of truth neces- 
sarily a distorted one, since we cannot see it all. If our 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 151 

thinking is to be depended upon at all, then truth is ulti- 
mately a unitary thing; it all fits together in one great 
pattern, like the parts of a puzzle-map. And each part 
of the universe of truth finally touches and influences 
every other part, even to those parts that are in daily 
contact with our common lives. To illustrate : It seemed 
a trivial and useless thing when the microscopist first 
discovered that there are micro-organisms in the plant 
vv^orld far too small to be seen with the unaided eye. What 
could be the use of this bit of truth, since we could never 
cultivate these organisms commercially or employ them 
in any way? But not so. We now know that the world 
of microbes is as intimately related to our lives as is the 
world of chlorophyl plants. Likewise, a very useless and 
abstract thing it seemed when the scientists discovered 
that electricity acts in waves of energy of different lengths 
and amplitude. Yet out of it all we have wireless teleg- 
raphy, and to-day there may be a message flung out over 
the ocean that will result in the converging of a score of 
ships to save a sinking vessel. 

Undoubtedly, since man is finite and hence limited in 
his relations, that is to say, in his points of contact in the 
Degrees of universe, some phases of truth come closer 
concreteness to his day's life than other phases ; in other 

in knov/ledge. j i i j • j. 

words, some knowledge is more concrete 
and immediately valuable than other knowledge. For 
example, with man's present stage of development, it 
would seem to matter less to him to know whether those 
marks on the planet Mars are really canals, than to 
know the cause of cancer and its cure. It would seem to 
be less valuable to him to know how many inflections some 
word in Sanscrit may have had than to know how so to 
care for his own body as to insure health and long life. 



152 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Knowledge is, broadly, of two kinds, (i) perceptual 
knowledge, or knowledge of things, and (2) logical knowl- 
edge, or knowledge of their relations. The 
ofTnowledge. ^^^^ ^^ S^t as a direct or indirect result of 
the stimulation of sensory organs; the sec- 
ond comes through thinking these things into a system; 
that is, through discovering their mutual interdependence 
or interaction — their relations. The first type of knowl- 
edge is fundamental, since without it the second could not 
exist. The second t3T)e is no less essential, since without 
it sensory objects would have no meaning, or so little 
meaning that they could not serve as symbols for any 
complex adjustment. While these two types of knowl- 
edge are perfectly distinct, they are not separate in 
experience. A thing and its meaning cannot well be 
divorced in our thinking. 

When knowledge has become organic, that is, when 
knowledge of the second type has gone far enough so that 
How knowi- ^^^ relations between the various phenom- 
edge becomes ena revealed to us through the sensory 
science. processes are seen and organized into a 

system, the sciences arise. If the relations between the 
various phenomena are fixed and unvarying, we have an 
^^ exact" science; if the relations must of necessity be 
variables, as in the case of the economic relations of 
people, we can no longer have an ^' exact" science. Yet 
the difference in exactness is, after all, only one of de- 
gree; and for the work required of social science it may 
be as serviceable as is the science of mathematics for 
what is required of it. In the case of a field of knowledge 
in which the phenomena or their relations are not yet 
well known we have no science at all, but only a body of 
knowledge which is growing in the direction of a science. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 153 

Science is the ultimate end toward which knowledge 

is striving. When knowledge has become science it 

serves as an efficient instrument of control. 

Science the ... - . ... 

ultimate end This IS its function. Arising m the prob- 
ofaii lgj-Q3 Qf Qj^g gg|- Qf concrete situations, it 

finds its end in aiding in the solution of 
another set of concrete situations. The scientific dis- 
coveries of yesterday direct the activities of to-day, and 
the environment which then mastered us is now made to 
contribute to our progress. Through science we control 
the forces about us, so that steam and electricity, and 
even the winds of heaven, are harnessed and made tamely 
to do the work of man. 

And it is altogether fitting that the science wrought 
out by one generation should play into the hands of the 
Science an ^^^^ generation, thus giving them the ad- 
instrument of vantage of a more perfect control, and en- 
abling them to attack new problems and 
achieve new victories. It is this team work of the gen- 
erations that makes progress possible. It is almost im- 
possible to estimate the advantage possessed by the pres- 
ent generation over the one living a hundred years ago 
by virtue of our knowledge of electricity, mechanics, the 
laws of nature, the body and mind, and a hundred other 
fields in which man is slowly but surely winning his way. 

Illustrations of science acting as an instrument of con- 
trol are to be found on every hand. It has already been 
Science ^^^^ ^^^ science helps in the obtaining of 

advances further knowledge in all fields. To note 

owe ge. ^^^ ^ £g^ examples: By constructing the 
telescope and microscope, science has added vastly to 
man's knowledge of the material universe. The science 
of mathematics has enabled him to arrive at results in 
all Hues of knowledge which otherwise would have been 



154 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

impossible. The sciences of neurology, physiology, and 
pathology have furnished a foundation for more fruitful 
work in the field of psychology; and the science of biology 
has become the basis for all the social sciences. 

Control through science does away with the reign of 
superstitions. Science has taught that sickness is not 
Science caused by evil spirits, and witchcraft has 

destroys died a natural death. Nor is sickness longer 

superstition. i i j • '^ a* r -n -j 

looked upon as a visitation of Providence, 
but as a result of the violation of natural laws, and it is 
therefore to be prevented or cured by conforming to those 
laws. This simple standpoint has resulted not only in 
relieving man from a degrading burden of superstition, 
but also in lengthening human life, and in reducing hu- 
man suffering to an almost incalculable degree. 

Science has likewise taught us to look for the causes 
of poverty in other sources than those of mere chance; 
Science aids ^^^ ^^ ^^^ coming to-day to look upon 
social pauperism as a social disease, and are try- 

pa o ogy. .^g ^^ control it as in the case of physical 

diseases by removing its causes. Science has given us a 
new standpoint in the treatment of crime and we are 
seeking now in our wiser moments to control it at its 
source in place of at its outcome. 

We are coming, through science, to understand the 
heredity of plants and animals, and can now successfully 
Leads to control the type of product in either, so 

control over that when the breeder determines a type 
na ure. ^j^^^ j^^ would like to produce, he has but 

to apply the teachings of science, and the desired results 
follow. In our crusade for the conservation of natural 
resources, science is to be our greatest weapon of control. 
For example, it is now showing us how we may achieve 
better results in building by the use of nature's indestruct- 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 155 

ible materials rather than by cutting down our forests; 
it is teaching us how to construct our buildings so that 
they may not burn up ; it is discovering to us how to mine 
and burn our coal so that we may not waste nature's 
supply of fuel; it is instructing how to utilize human 
labor that the largest returns may be secured with the 
least possible degree of waste. 

The sciences of physiology and of psychology are com- 
ing to give man a control over the forces that operate in 
Gives man ^^^ ^^^^' ^^^ hence ovcr his ultimate destiny, 
power over to a degree that was wholly impossible in 
IS own e. ^j^^ days of ignorance and superstition. 
Man is coming to realize that even personal moraHty 
has a scientific basis, and that he who would live in ac- 
cordance with ethical principles must first of all have a 
thorough grasp upon the sciences that underlie the very 
foundations of life. 

It seems evident, then, that man must interpret his 
world in terms of knowledge if he is to become master of 
Man must ^^^ realm. He must know his environment, 

know his both physical and social; and he must also 

environmen . ng^tly conceive himself and the end toward 
which he is moving. If he is to achieve his high destiny, 
teleology must in him become clearly intelligent, which 
is to say that it must be founded upon a systematized 
and organic body of knowledge; that is, upon science. 

The individual interprets the world not in terms of 
knowledge alone, but also in terms of feeling. He not 
Interpretation ^^ly apprehends truth or reahty, but he is 
(2) in terms also offected by it. The universe has for 

ee ng. j^^ ^^^ ^^^y meaning, but value as well. 

While knowledge is an instrument of control, feeling is 
the motive force in life. Knowledge is the rudder, feeling 
is the power that drives the machinery. 



156 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Feeling functions first of all as an appraiser of values. 
It takes the thing that knowledge says is true, and speci- 
fies how much this thing is worth. It puts 
of^feS^ng. ^^^ stamp of reality on experience and dic- 

tates what things are worth while. It sets 
up the great goals to be striven for and the great disasters 
to be avoided. It floods the Hfe with riches or starves it 
with poverty. 

The world interpreted in terms of knowledge alone 
would be a very cold and incomplete world. Experience 
Feeling defines defined as knowledge only would still have 
values and meaning, but it would be pale and devoid 
rea ity. ^£ ^g^j-j^^j^ ^^^ color. Reality constituted 

exclusively of things known would still possess the form 
or reality, but lack most of its content. For the truest 
and deepest realities are precisely those that have the 
largest element of feeling in them. One's affections are 
much more real to him and, subjectively, of infinitely more 
worth than his knowledge of higher mathematics or the 
niceties of linguistic inflections. Fear of an earthquake 
or a tornado is a clearer reality than a demonstration 
of the nebular h3^othesis. The feeling of patriotism 
comes closer to the life than any theory of the state, and 
religious fervor outweighs as a matter of personal experi- 
ence the theological doctrine of supererogation. 

While it is true, therefore, that all interpretation must 
be based on something known, yet it is no less true that 

a full interpretation of our environment is 
ta^ion°o£^r impossible without going beyond knowledge, 
world im- The pcrsou who looks at the sunset with a 

ourfeeuJg.*^" complete knowledge of the scientific laws 

underlying the production of the crimson, 
yellow, and orange colors, but feels nothing of its beauty, 
is at least as far from having fully interpreted the sun- 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 157 

set as if he had been alive to its aesthetic values, but had 
lacked knowledge of the laws of the ether vibrations con- 
stituting physical Hght. 

One may know the facts of history, and yet fail to in- 
terpret peoples of other times because of the inability 
Vital relation ^^ ^^^^ across the stretches of time the pulse 
of knowledge of the human heart as it beats in joy or 
an ee ng. sorrow, in hope or in fear. It is possible to 
be an acute theologian, and yet fail to interpret God be- 
cause of lack of the feehng response. On the other hand, 
one who is little of a philosopher and less of a theologian, 
m^ay arrive at vaHd and serviceable definition of God 
through a vital response of feehng. Finally, dropping 
into popular phrase, the heart must join with the head 
in the interpretation of our world. While the heart with- 
out the head would give us a world of values distorted 
because lacking the perspective of relationships, so the 
head without the heart would give us a world of mean- 
ings without values because lacking in warmth and worth. 

The interpretation of the world through feehng takes 
four general directions: (i) Feehngs whose terminal as- 
Different pec ts are the self — egoisticieelings', (2) feel- 
phases of ings which have for their object other peo- 
feeimg. pj^ — social fechngs; (3) feehngs which grow 
out of the perceptual world — (Esthetic feehngs; (4) feel- 
ings whose object is God — religious feehngs. 

Whether feehng was the earhest form of response in 
the race and the first mode of interpreting environment, 
it belongs at least am^ong the first of the 
^e^eul's^''*^'" powers of the individual to develop. The 
egoistic are the first of the feehngs to have 
their rise, and remain a prominent factor in determining 
the attitude of the individual throughout life. 



158 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

The egoistic feelings, or self-love and interest, are a 
natural biological product. In the economy of the race 
The egoistic ^^ ^^^ found Serviceable for the individual 
feelings a bio- to care for himself first and foremost. By 
logical product. ^^^ ^j^-j^ j^j^ environment is interpreted 

first of all in his relation to his own comfort and welfare. 
The material world is of value only in suppl3dng his 
needs. His mother, even, exists that she may minister 
to his pleasure or relieve his pain. He is thoroughly self- 
centred, in the highest degree selfish. 

The egoistic feelings decrease relatively, if not actually, 
with growth of experience, and particularly with the 
rise of the social feehngs. Yet the egoistic 
decreas^e of fecHngs never lose their grip upon the Hfe. 
the egoistic As the Self develops and comes to include 
feelings with ^j^^ wider cycle of existence, these feehngs 
change in form, but still exert their mflu- 
ence. By those who have an excess of egoistic feefing, 
the material resources of the earth are often interpreted 
solely as an opportunity to amass personal fortunes be- 
yond reasonable needs. Men are not infrequently looked 
upon by certain of their fellows as so many units of 
energy to set at work for the selfish ends of him who con- 
trols them, or as so many voting machines to count a 
tally toward bringing power and honor to the one who 
manipulates them. Rehgion has by some been valued 
chiefly as a life-preserver intended to buoy its possessor 
safe into the heavenly port. 

The social feelings early have their rise, 
feelings!"^ and are as necessary to the full develop- 
ment of the individual as are the egoistic. 
Through the social feelings, material wealth is inter- 
preted in terms of the amount of pleasure it can be made 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 159 

to give others. Fellow men are looked upon, not as an 
opportunity for exploitation for selfish gain, but as an 
opportunity for helpful co-operation and service. Famous 
pictures are not to hoard in private galleries, shut away 
from the world, but are to loan or give to public gal- 
leries, or to copy and spread broadcast among the masses. 
Medical discoveries or mechanical inventions are not to 
sell to the highest bidder, but to give where most needed. 
Religion is not a species of death insurance, but a method 
of contributing service. 

The social feelings have given rise to some of the most 
significant terms in human speech. Friend, companion, 
Significance; lovcr, comrade, coworker, fellow-country- 
of the social man, and a host of other terms suggest 
fee ngs. different aspects of this group. And it is 

not hard to understand how far short of a full and com- 
plete interpretation of our world we should be should 
we drop out of it the values that come through our 
interpretation of men as friends, companions, coworkers, 
and all the rest. 

The present age is undoubtedly to go into history as 
an era of transition from the individuahstic to the social 
standpoint. This is coming to be known 
century?"^ as the "social century." The social feel- 
ings are playing a larger part in the inter- 
pretation of the world than in any former time, and are 
giving rise to new concepts and new motives such as 
'^ social soHdarity'^ and ''universal brotherhood." 

Through the aesthetic feehngs the world 
feeUngT*^^**^ ' ^^ interpreted in terms of beauty, fitness, 
harmony, and completeness. The aesthetic 
feelings awaken relatively early in both race and indi- 
vidual. The beauty of nature's colors so appeal to prim- 



160 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

itive man that he paints them on his dwelling and his 
weapons, and even on his body. The little child deter- 
mines the value of a toy or a picture in accordance with 
his notion of whether it is "pretty" or not. 

It is the aesthetic feelings which save the yellow prim- 
rose on the bank from being just "a yellow primrose and 
The value nothing more.'' These feelings make sun- 

of aesthetic scts more than a symbol for closing the 
feehng. day's work or going to the evening meal. 

It is aesthetic feeling which gives architecture its value, 
and makes it worth while to put much labor and treasure 
into beautif3dng our homes, public parks, boulevards, and 
playgrounds. It is aesthetic feeling that makes a few 
grains of paint and a few square feet of canvas possess 
so high a value. 

Lacking in aesthetic feeling, an individual misses the 

full interpretation of the world, just as surely as if he 

were to lack in the egoistic or the social. It 

the most vital IS true that thcsc are more nearly related 

phases of |-q i^^lyq existence, but man is destined to 

experience. , . , , , 

more than mere existence, and must pass 
beyond the economic in his interpretation of the world. 
Too many lives are now barren of the beautiful, because 
of stifling the aesthetic feelings or faihng to develop them. 
To all such, one of the richest and most fruitful phases 
of reality is lacking. To them the beauties of nature and 
of art, the harmonies of sound, and the exquisite in form 
and feature are without worth, because of failure to 
respond to them; and hence their world is but the frac- 
tion of a world. 

The "religious" God in his personal relation to men is to 
feehngs. ]^q interpreted chiefly through feehng. Only 

in this way can He become a God of reality and of ex- 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 161 

perience. The perceptual world gives constant evi- 
dence of his presence as a creative force, and reason 
and revelation tell of his relations to man. But a 
God known only in these ways is a very distant and cold 
reaHty. Not until religious feehng has interpreted the 
nature of God as father and friend does he become an 
immediate reality, possessing felt value in our lives. 

ReHgious feehng is fundamental as a mode 
x^fflcessary" ^f interpreting our world. Practically aU 
to a fuU inter- peoples evolve this feeling, as do all indi- 
worw!^^ °^ *^^ viduals. It seems to have its rise in a sense 

of incompleteness and weakness, and the 
feelings of reverence, adoration, and worship go out to 
the Being who can serve as a complement to man's 
weakness and his need. 

The religious feelings lie very close to the aesthetic 
feelings. The beautiful and the good are in some degree 
_ , . , synonymous. Both imply the harmony 

Relation of -^ rl . r i ^ Tt \ 

aesthetic and and fitness comiug from completeness. But 
religious rcHgious feeling goes beyond aesthetic feel- 

ing in that, while aesthetic feehng interprets 
the world in terms of beauty, religious feelings add to 
this the personal relationship impHed in the fatherhood 
of God and a common, conscious purpose for the destiny 
of man. 

It is seen, then, that our world is to be interpreted in 
its two great phases, (i) as a world of facts, the knowl- 
Ours a world ^^g^ ^^ which, when organized is science, 
(i) of "facts," becomes a great instrument of control; 
(2) of "values." ^^^ j^^) as a world of values, the apprecia- 
tion of which gives it its worth as an experience process. 
Lacking any phase of knowledge interpretation, man can 
exercise but partial control in his world; lacking any 



162 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

phase of feeling interpretation, he has a world of meagre 
or distorted values. In either case he possesses but a 
partial world. 

All normal individuals have implicit in them the powers 
and capacities to be used in the complete interpretation 

of their world. The race is far from having 
include both reached such an interpretation, it is true; 
phases of ]L)^^ every generation is making progress. 

It therefore becomes the problem of educa- 
tion so to develop these powers and capacities of the 
individual that the world may come to be interpreted at 
its fullest and richest; that its meanings and its values 
alike shall come to serve as symbols to guide in the ex- 
perience process. 



IV. Powers of Control 

From the biological standpoint, capacities for im- 
pressions and interpretation exist only that adaptive 
Impression and response may foUow. The degree of mind 
interpretation required is measured by the necessity for 
ea to contro . adjustment, and hence powers and capaci- 
ties never evolve for their own sake, but the better to 
enable the individual to fit into its environment. In 
lower realms the environment is accepted chiefly as it 
is found, and control only consists in adjusting the or- 
ganism to its conditions. 

But man has risen above the biological, 

For man con- . . . , ^^ . *^ ' 

troi is more and attamed to the spiritual. He is more 
than adjust- thsLU an Organism; he is a person. For him 
control is not mere adjustment. He not 
only adapts himself to his environment, but makes 
his environment over to suit his needs. Man is sub- 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 163 

ject in a degree to the limitations of his surroundings, but 
he has the power to remove many of these limitations. 
He not only climbs upward himself, but he reconstructs 
and advances his environment in the process. He is not 
only subject to control, but he controls. He is therefore 
capable not only of adjustment, but of progress. 

The great desideratum in the life of the 
measurTd by individual or society is the securing of con- 
control over trol over the experience process. This con- 
process.^"^^^^ stitutes freedom. It is the end of all social 
evolution, as it is the end of all individual 
education and development. It is the power of control 
that differentiates a mere racial unit into a self-directive 
personality. 

The child at birth may be looked upon as a mere indi- 
vidual of genus homo, ready, however, to develop through 
^ , the stasres of experience into a person. 

Development . ^ ^r - ^ i • i •! 

to be defined Unique and self-active. On the social side, 
in terms of }^g jg ^it the beginning but an organ in the 
social body, a part in the social process, 
possessing no characteristics except those contributed to 
him by the race. But he also stands ready to develop 
into a member in the social process, a participant in social 
activities, a contributor to social welfare and progress. 
These two lines of development, the individual and the 
social, are but different aspects of the same unitary 
process. The mere individual becomes a person, and 
the mere social organ becomes a social member only 
through a gradual and constant reconstruction of ex- 
perience. The nature of this reconstruction grows out 
of the nature of the powers and capacities of the indi- 
vidual on the one hand, and out of the demands of the 
social process on the other. 



164 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

In the reconstruction of experience, or the develop- 
ment of the self, there is always some set of forces acting 
„ . , , to control the direction of this reconstruc- 

Social and . • i r i i 

individual tion. ihc qucstion therefore becomes that 

sources of ^f ^]^g source and nature of this control. 

At first in the life of the child the control 
is almost wholly social and but very little individual. 
If proper development goes on, this proportion changes 
and control becomes more largely individual and less 
social. Development thus implies a growing control by 
the individual over the processes of his own experience. 
But as control is always exercised with reference to the 
demands of environment, and as the child's environment 
is chiefly social, this control is always exercised with 
reference to an increasing consciousness of social values; 
that is, of social standards, interpretations, and plans of 
action. Education may therefore be de- 
education?^ ° fined as the progressive reconstruction of ex- 
perience^ with a growing consciousness of 
social values and an increasing control over the processes 
of experience. 

The growth of control is a chief aspect of education, 

if indeed it may not be taken as its measure. Only when 

, , the individual has obtained command over 

Growth of , , . , . 

control a his own powcrs and resources and withm 

measure of certain natural and necessary limitations 

education. • t i i ^ - ^ ^ 

IS able to shape his own course, can he be 
said to be educated. Lacking this power, he is the mere 
creature of environment, moulded and shaped, and his 
course set by the influences that play upon him. This 
definition of education implies the necessity for adjust- 
ment to environment, but it does more; for it requires 
that the adjustment shall be self-controlled and not 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 165 

dominated by external forces. Power of control is there- 
fore at once the aim and the test of education. 

Control involves both of the two great orders, the self 
and the not-self. We may then consider (i) control over 

Two directions ^^ ^^^^' ^^^ (^) control over the environ- 
to be taken mcnt. While these two types of control go 
y con . hand in hand, and are seldom or never 

divorced in experience, yet it may be said that, roughly, 
control over the self means adjustment, and that control 
over the environment means progress. 

Man has behind him a splendid record of achievement. 
Finding the world of nature a wilderness, he has made it 
Control ^ garden. The mighty forces around him, 

(i) over whose nature and import were unknown, 

® ^® ' he has mastered and put to his own uses. 

The rigors of climate have given way, space has been con- 
quered, disease has been subdued, and a thousand other 
wonders accompHshed. But man's greatest problem was 
not, after all, this mastery of the not-self; his supreme 
test was and is in the mastery of the self. 

This must of necessity be true because man himself is 
the highest and most complex form of creation existing 
in the world, the master and leader of all the rest. If 
man would attain his high destiny, he must not only 
rightly conceive the remainder of the world, but also 
himself; he must not only know, but must know the 
knower. He must not only control, but must control 
the one who directs. 

And man naturally comes to study and 

himseW^iasT^ Understand himself last. The great not-self 

insistently presses upon him and demands 

attention. Hunger attacks him, and he must work 

out the problem of a food supply. The cold freezes 



166 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

him, and he must provide for shelter and clothing. The 
perceptual world challenges him, and he starts to un- 
ravelling nature's secrets. Insistent impulses throb 
within him, and he woos a mate and cares for a family. 
He at first takes himself for granted; immediate neces- 
sities fill his time and occupy his thought. Only when a 
certain degree of mastery has been attained over the not- 
self does man take occasion to consider the self as dis- 
tinct from the external order and reflect on its place in 
the world. 

It is true that in securing control over his environment, 
man has also been developing control over the self. This 
Mastery of Hiust needs be the case; nor could control 
self the great over the self be secured in any other way 
pro em. \hdJi through first employing its powers in 

the mastery of the not-self. But even so, progress in con- 
trol over the self attained in this indirect way is haphazard 
and uncertain because it lacks aim; it wavers, because 
it lacks the steadying power of a reflective purpose. Man 
will not reach his goal without a more complete knowl- 
edge and mastery of himself. The world of self, which 
has waited till the last for study and explanation, offers 
greater difficulties and promises larger rewards than be- 
long to the world of the not-self. 

Nor does control over the self imply holding the reins 
or the whip over some vague entity that exists only as 

a figment of the imagination or the product 
of seS-^cont^oi. ^^ theorizing. It is rather to direct a set of 

powers and capacities as they are em- 
ployed in the course of daily experience, realizing them- 
selves and making their contribution to the social welfare. 
It may to-day mean a positive control, inciting to action 
and achievement; to-morrow it may mean a negative 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 167 

control exercised to check impulses or tendencies that 
should not be allowed expression. Now it may require 
bringing the self into conformity with social standards 
and usages; another time it may require independence of 
judgment and the violation of social conventions that 
hamper progress. On one occasion the necessity for con- 
trol may concern chiefly the physical powers and activi- 
ties, leading to hygienic living, longevity, and increased 
efficiency. Another time it may involve the development 
or use of mental powers, looking toward the elimination 
of waste in time and effort. Again it may be a ques- 
tion of right and wrong, requiring ethical or moral judg- 
ment and involving social conduct. But whatever direc- 
tion control may take, it has to do with a real self, busied 
with- the activities that go to make up the experience 
process. Further, it is a social self, for the activities by 
which the self finds expression are social activities. Con- 
trol over the self has its standards set, therefore, and its 
necessities dictated largely by social demands. 

The self of which we are speaking is pre-eminently a 
unity, and does not consist of physical and mental and 

moral nature as disparate elements going 
the^se?.*^ ^ ^^ some Way to make up a discrete whole. 

It follows therefore that control of the self 
is a unitary control, and does not consist of physical con- 
trol plus mental control plus moral control. Having this 
unity in mind, it will be convenient to speak separately 
of the different phases of control over the self. 
The physical Both biologically and socially the most 

phase of the fundamental phase of control over the self 

is that exercised over the physical. The 
body is but a machine, but it is a living machine. Fur- 
ther, it is the machine upon which the mind must depend 



168' SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

to gather the raw material for its thought, serve in the 
elaboration of this material, and carry its projects out 
to accomplishment. The mind is therefore subject to 
the limitations of this physical machine, profiting by its 
strength and excellence, or crippled by its weakness and 
inefficiency. This machine has from the beginning all its 
parts, but at first they exist only in embryo; they are 
rough hewn and imperfect, requiring opportunity for 
growth and development through many years. 

The physical machine is subject to disease and death, 
and therefore requires the most careful attention as to 
food, surroundings, and habits of life. It is more com- 
plex by far than any other machine in the world, and 
hence not only presents great difiiculty in bringing its 
various parts into correlation with each other, but it is 
easily thrown out of adjustment. A good example of its 
complexity is found in the brain. Of all parts of the 
body, this organ is the most carefully shut away from the 
external world; yet it must have full information of what 
is going on in the world outside itself, and must direct 
activities with reference to external objects and events. 
The neurones, which constitute the functional part of 
the brain, are so minute that their diameter is invisible 
to the eye. Their number is so great that if their fibres 
were all represented by wires so fine as to be barely visi- 
ble to the eye, and set in a model of the brain made large 
enough to receive a number equal to the neurones of the 
brain, the base of the model would need to cover nearly 
an average city block. Yet each of these minute living 
threads has its own work to perform, and must unerringly 
carry out its function. Let them fail ever so little and 
the memory begins to play tricks, the percepts turn out 
to be illusions, judgment proves untrustworthy, feeling 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 169 

plays false, and reason becomes muddled. Surely, from 
the important part played by the physical machine in 
man's destiny, it is incumbent upon him thoroughly to 
understand his body, and learn so to control it that he 
shall be its master instead of its slave. 

Bodily health and vigor are fundamental to all success 
and happiness. Nothing can take their place, and noth- 
,, , . ing can atone for their loss; yet they are 

xkL3.ii s victory • >^ •> 

and failure in often held lightly, and are freely given in 
the physical exchange for wealth, pleasure, or position. 
Sickness is still by many looked upon as in- 
evitable, to be patiently endured when it comes, and 
thankfully recovered from when it passes, or resignedly 
submitted to when it claims its victim. That man has it 
fully within his power to eliminate far the greater part of 
the physical ills that now prevail does not admit of doubt. 
He knows enough of the structure of his body and the 
laws that govern its functions to be Kving much longer 
and more efficiently than he is now doing. Tuberculosis is 
both preventable and curable, yet it is annually claiming 
its toll of victims in the prime of life. Typhoid fever 
exists only as a result of carelessness. Pneumonia finds 
the greater part of its victims among those who shut 
themselves from pure air. And so we might go on until 
we had catalogued most of the diseases that are re- 
sponsible for premature deaths. Only a few have so far 
baffied the scientist's skill and are pronounced incurable. 
The rest exist by sufferance. They are an evidence of 
man's lack of control with reference to his body and its 
welfare. In part the responsibility lies with the indi- 
vidual, who must himself conform to the laws of personal 
hygiene if he would come into control of his body; in 
part the responsibility Hes with society in its collective 



170 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

control of the conditions of health. But in either case 
the problem is one of control through factors already 
possessed, both by the individual and society. 

After those features of control over the physical self 
that are to be exercised with reference to the health, 
Control through g^owth, and general efficiency of the body, 
power of ex- the most important phase of control has to 
pression. ^^ ^-^-^ physical powers of expression. The 

self is essentially an active self. It is dynamic, knowing 
no moment of rest and inaction. It is what it is doing 
at any moment, and its ultimate constitution is the re- 
sultant of all its acts. Activity is the mode of its realiza- 
tion, the method of its development, the means by which 
it achieves and reconstructs its experience. 

The activities of the self are synonymous with self- 
expression. Expression is, therefore, the true definition 

Expression the ®^ ^^^ ^^^^> ^^^ measure of its development, 
true definition and the mcans of its growth. Expression 
of the self. j^ ^j^^ ^j^^ ^^^ whither all impressions are 

tending. This is their logical outcome, and their only ex- 
planation. Not leading to expression, impressions would 
have no function, and hence no meaning. Impression 
and expression are the terminal aspects of one unitary 
act, of which interpretation is the middle term. Just as 
there can be no end without a beginning, so there can 
be no expression without impression. And, also, just as 
beginning and end are lacking in meaning or significance 
without reality in between, so impression and expression 
have no significance without interpretation to mediate 
between them. In other words, expression must be ade- 
quately directed with reference to the situations which 
give it rise, if the individual is to exercise control over 
the processes of his own experience. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 171 

While the self has two aspects, physical and mental, 
both of which manifest themselves through expression, 
The physical ^^^ physical is the ultimate vehicle of ex- 
the vehicle of pression. For the mind cannot reveal itself 
expression. directly, but is dependent on the body to 
make itself known or to manifest its particular states. 
The only mind that one can know at first hand is his 
own. Each mind is in a sense a prisoner within the body, 
and allowed to speak to others only through the mes- 
sengers of the body — the lips, the face, the form, and 
gesture. Not only is expression, therefore, the mode of 
the self's development, but it is the only means by which 
the self can bring its powers to bear or make its influence 
felt. Society little cares and nothing profits by thoughts 
or feelings which are unexpressed. 

The modes of physical expression are as many as the 
different acts which the body is capable of performing. 
Different '^^^ products of physical expression are as 

modes of phys- manifold as the material achievements of 
icai expression, civilization. Because of this complexity 
and the interrelations among the different forms of phys- 
ical expression, it is impossible to set up any simple, 
logical classification that will include all the forms of 
expression without overlapping. It may be serviceable, 
however, to observe the following classification: Expres- 
sion (i) through the medium of the body; (2) through 
the medium of the hand; and (3) through the medium 
of speech. 

While of course both speech and handi- 

^xp^ession!^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ forms of physical expression, yet 

there is a sense in which the body acts 

more or less as a unit in expression. In another sense it 

acts on the principle of division of labor, and sets apart 



172 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

certain organs for highly specialized and important func- 
tions. Thus the body acting as a unit expresses elation 
or dejection by its carriage or poise; the hand, acting as 
a specialized organ, is responsible for the creation of 
material civilization; the tongue, acting as a specialized 
organ, mediates speech and makes possible the inter- 
communication of thought. 

It may be said that, in general, bodily expression 
mediates attitudes of mind and emotional states rather 
„ ^., than thought. Indeed, modern theories 

Bodily expres- ^. / . . , 

sion mediates 01 the cmotions have shown that it is the 
^t?t*d°^ expression of the entire organism in re- 

sponse to some interpretation of an im- 
pression that produces the emotional state. The emo- 
tion which thus has its origin in a general organic 
expression may terminate in a similar general expres- 
sion of the entire body, or may take the form of speech, 
manual or other specialized expression. 

Certain forms of expression terminate, so far as their 
immediate effects go, within the organism itself. The 
^^ ^ . , expressions are too delicate or too much 

The pliysical 

reveals the hidden to be observable to those about us, 

history of the |3^^ |-]jgy ^j-g ^q^ q^ jJ^^^ aCCOUUt IcSS im- 
individual. , 

portant m their effects. For example, one 
may find himself in an environment that oppresses him, 
and yet give no outward sign of his suffering; face and 
form finally come, however, to tell the story. The his- 
tory of generations of serfdom is written large in the 
physical heaviness and lack of expression of the Russian 
peasants, while the freedom of the Anglo-Saxon is to be 
read in his alertness and the firmness of his step. The 
physical is ultimately a picture of the mental projected 
upon the screen of our senses. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 173 

Bodily poise, therefore, both indicates and tends to 
produce mental states. The calm and steady poise, the 
confident step, the unabashed eye, the alert 
Expression Carriage, not only speak of a masterful at- 

indicates and titude of mind, but also react upon the 
stetTs!'"'^''^ mental state as weU. On the other hand, 
the dejected form, the ambling carriage, 
the shifty eye, speak with equal plainness of an uncertain, 
uncontrolled, and vacillating attitude of mind, and Hke- 
wise tend to produce or continue this very attitude of 
mind. 

The face Is the most expressive part of the organism, 
and therefore is quickest to show forth mental condi- 
tions. Hence it is that the mind's states 

Xhe fac6 

are so clearly revealed in its changing ex- 
pressions. Nor is it strange that characteristic mental 
states, such as discouragement, dissatisfaction, pessimism, 
or, on the other hand, cheerfulness and happiness, should 
leave their permanent stamp on the face. 

Gesture is a form of bodily expression that has its rise 
early, both in the race and the individual. Primitive 
peoples, before they have developed artic- 
ulate speech, converse through gestures. 
Children gesture freely in attempting to express them- 
selves. Gesture remains one of the most effective of the 
arts of the orator, especially when he wishes to express 
mental attitudes or emotional states. Its loss from most 
of our conversation and much of our public speaking 
cannot but mean some loss in the ability fully to ex- 
press the self. 

Dramatic expression or acting is but an- 

^* other form of bodily expression. It impHes 

a high degree of harmony in all the forms of physical ex- 



174 SOCIAL TRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

pression, such as form, poise and carriage, face, gesture, 
and voice, in order to bring out fully some striking situa- 
tion. This form of expression is as old as the race, and 
the impulse to its use rises early in tlie life of every child. 
That people understand its language and are impressed 
by its effect is seen in tlie universal response to dramatic 
acting in all its forms. 

Speech is one of the specialized forms of expression 

mentioned above. It may be divided into two classes, 

natural or inarticulate speech, such as 

Expression laughter and Crying; and artilicial or articu- 

through ^ 1 

speech. hite speech, or language proper. Laughter 

and crying are among the earliest forms of 
speech, both in developing societies and among children. 
Long before tlie savage had developed a language, he 
used tlie cry and the laugh to indicate his emotional 
states; and long before the child knows the language of 
his social group, he speaks this common language of 
humanity. Laughter and crying are not suited for the 
transmission of ideas, but belong to the lower form of 
transmission of mental attitudes and emotions. As civ- 
ilization and spoken language have developed, greater 
control has come to be exercised over tliese two forms 
of speech and social restraint has been placed upon un- 
due use of either. 

Artilicial speech, or articulate language, arises when a 
people have developed far enough tliat they have rela- 
tively complex ideas to transmit to others, 
and^ought. Whercas cries stood for emotional states, 
words stand for ideas and thoughts. So 
closely related is language to ideas and thoughts, that we 
have uniformly come to think in terms of articulate 
speech, and can hardly understand to-day how it would 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 175 

be possible to carry on a mental life at all without this 
medium, not only for its expression, but also in which to 
house its content. Inability in the use of speech means, 
therefore, not only a handicap in the way of expression, 
but likewise a handicap in the vehicle of thought. He 
who lacks words must in some degree lack thoughts. 

But words are not limited to expressing ideas alone. 

They, along with laughter and crying and the forms 

^ , of bodily expression, stand for emotional 

Command of "^ . r • t 

speech as a statcs or attitudes of mmd as Well; and not 
measure of the ^^ small proportion of thc words oi our 

mental life. i i r i • • i 

speech have for their content an emotional 
meaning rather than a thought meaning. Therefore, ar- 
ticulate speech serves as a vehicle and at the same time 
as a mode of expression for impressions and interpreta- 
tions of every kind. In other words, our command of 
speech measures the range, scope, quality of our mental 
life. 

The hand is another specialized organ of expression. 
To it, more than any other part of the body, man owes 
Expression ^^^ Superiority over the animal kingdom, 
through the Evcn If it wcrc possible to give man thc 
mind that he has, and all of the body ex- 
cepting the hand, he would be very far from able to 
accomplish the civilization that to-day exists. Deprive 
man of the hand and the world would lose all of its art 
and a large part of its science and handicraft. The in- 
dustries would all have to be made over and man would 
find himself but very little above the scale of the ani- 
mals in his actual accomplishment of material civiliza- 
tion. The hand is pre-eminently the tool of the mind 
in carrying out its finest conceptions, whether this be 
in the form of art, manual skill, or mechanical con- 
struction of any kind. 



176 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Add to this the fact that the mind itself is developed 

through its various forms of expression, and we see another 

important relation which the hand and its 

manual arts bear to mental development. If it is 

expression to ^j-y,g ^j^g^^ ^-j^g mind of man has grown up 

not only along with his advance in material 
civilization, but also because of this advance, and further, 
if the hand has played so important a part as we have 
seen in constructing this material civilization, then indeed 
the hand is an indispensable servant of the mind ; and to 
train the hand is not merely to make the fingers able to 
draw more accurately, to manipulate the keyboard with 
more precision, or to drive the saw with greater effec- 
tiveness; but it is also to give breadth and scope to the 
mind's grasp, and to train it in the processes of thought. 
The expression side of education has long been neglected, 
and even now is not receiving the attention that its im- 

portance demands. Too long has education 
the expression been looked upon as a process of giving im- 
side of pressions, with perhaps a partial interpre- 

education. ^ . . . . . ^ i . 

tation of these impressions. Only m com- 
paratively recent years has there been a wide-spread 
movement for carrying education out to its ultimate con- 
clusion, namely, the realization of the full significance 
of impressions and interpretations through expressing 
them by means of the various forms of bodily expression, 
or through speech and through the arts of the hand. 

Control over the mental powers and activities presents 
even greater problems than control over the physical. 

The mind at birth has implicit within itself 
through the all the powers that will characterize the 
mental individual at his fullest and richest develop- 

acttvities. , 

ment. Education creates no power. It 
only seeks, through conforming to the law inherent in 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 177 

mind itself, to transform potential powers into actual 
powers, and, in the process, to give the individual control 
over these powers. 

The mind at birth is as undeveloped and helpless as the 
body. It has few of the senses. Perception is an unlearned 
Genetic ^^^' Memory has no material. Imagina- 

deveiopment tion has not yet awakened. Thought is 
of the mind. impossible. Feeling is vague. Yet from 
this small beginning the mind must construct a perceptual 
world of almost infinite variety. Memory must carry 
a great mass of useful information. A system of concepts 
must be developed and built into an organic thought 
structure to whose grasp nothing seems foreign or im- 
possible. Commanding impulses and emotions must arise 
and take their place in a great system of motives that 
urge and drive and are yet under control. All this must 
be so worked out that every power has its opportunity 
for development, and yet each must be brought into har- 
mony with the other, and the whole made responsive to 
the needs of the individual. 

The problem of control of the mind is primarily a 
problem of interest and attention. Only the thoughts 
that stand in the focus of attention have 
Ittention^'''^ Sufficient vitality to eventuate in action, 
primary Those that hover on the outskirts of con- 

mentS Control, sciousness are of importance only as pos- 
sible claimants for a focal position. But 
every thought that stands fully within the centre of the 
mind's gaze is a force to be reckoned with. For it fuses 
with the mental elements already in our possession, and 
in some degree modifies them; it forms associations with 
other trains of thought, and thus becomes a part of our 
thought material; it stimulates to action and modifies 



178 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

our conduct. In the end the prevaihng trend and char- 
acter of our thought gauges the direction and results of 
our deeds. 

Attention determines our environment. Environment 
does not consist in the things that are in physical prox- 
Attention imity, but of the things that are attended 

defines to. All that lics outside the scope of a 

environment. blind's attention does not exist for that par- 
ticular mind. Each person therefore creates his own 
world of environment through the things to which he 
attends. It therefore follows that in just so far as one 
can direct his attention he can determine the character 
of all impressions received, all interpretations made and 
all expressions that result. 

Attention thus becomes the great factor in mental 
control. If, through trained interests, natural aptitudes, 
Attention ^^^ heroic effort, attention is brought to 

determines bear on lines of activity that lead to achieve- 
evemen . j^e^t, the outcome is secure. The processes 
of experience will be brought more and more within the 
individual's control. If, on the other hand, attention 
is capricious, if it follows every will-o'-the-wisp without 
regard to values, if it has a tendency to focus on lines 
of activity of doubtful value, the individual is drifting 
toward the necessity of external control and cannot be 
the master of his own experiences. 

In the economy of development attention is brought 
to bear only at the crucial points of experience. It 
.^ ^. emerges where the humdrum routine of 

Attention ° . . i • ^ j 

attaches to the experience IS broken into and a reconstruc- 
cruciai points ^[q^ ^f experience demanded. It is this 

of experience. ^ . i i • i i 

fact that makes a varied and a variable 
environment indispensable to evolution. Primitive man 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 179 

is confronted with a change in climate, and must make for 
himself clothing and a house or perish. He must recon- 
struct his experience at this point ; attention is demanded. 
The railway is pushed to the foot of the mountain and 
cannot go over; a tunnel must be put through. Again 
attention is demanded. A city's water supply is con- 
taminated; attention to its purification is necessary in 
order to save the lives of its inhabitants. 

In youth, the crucial points of experience come thick 
and fast. All is new and experience must be recon- 
Demands upon structed continuously and with great rapid- 
attention in ity. The child has hardly become oriented 
^°^ * in a home before he is pushed out into a 

wider community and a new world where he must read- 
just himself. This done, he is sent to school, where again 
he must reconstruct his experience by learning new sym- 
bols of knowledge. Physical nature is a perceptual chal- 
lenge to his attention; society constantly appeals to 
him; he meets one of the other sex and the whole world 
of values is upset; the consciousness of self emerges, 
and a troop of social, moral, and religious problems 
demands solution. No wonder that youth is alert and 
on the qui vive, with so much claiming attention. The 
great problem is to train the attention to deal with the 
permanent and valuable instead of with the ephemeral 
and cheap. 

The natural tendency of all activity is to become 
automatic, and hence to release attention from its direc- 
Tendency tiOTi. Hence the oft repeated becomes 

toward common and attention loosens its grip, 

au oma ism. ^^ environment that once held the atten- 
tion chained to its wonders or beauty may finally fail 
to claim notice. Situations and associations that at one 



180 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

time enthralled the attention are later taken as a matter 
of fact. Wordsworth complains that as he grew older 
a glory had passed from the earth. All this is, of course, 
the very essence of old fogyism. This danger is the price 
we pay for the privilege of making our reactions auto- 
matic. 

The aim in this connection is to save interest from fad- 
ing out, to keep experience from becoming encrusted 
Appeal to ^^^ falling into a rut. On the positive side, 

interest the problem is to keep experience in a state 

necessary. ^£ reconstruction. And this requires new 

incentives for attention. As the old no longer demands 
attention, new interests are to be sought; as one aspect 
of experience becomes commonplace, new phases are to 
be discovered ; when a line of activity has become auto- 
matic, new lines are to be taken up, or the old modified 
by improving it. 

Attention is for all practical purposes synonymous 
with interest. Hence it follows that worthy interests 
Necessity for mean attention to worthy thoughts. A 
broad scope broad scopc of interests permits a wide 

m eres s. range of attention, and thus saves the 
mind from settling down to a dead level of uniformity. 
Permanent interests, those that continue to grow in- 
stead of soon dropping out, supply a lasting basis for 
attention. The cultivation of a worthy, broad, permanent 
set of interests therefore becomes one of the most neces- 
sary factors in securing control over the self. Educa- 
tion has no more important problem than to shape the 
direction and give quality to the interests which domi- 
nate the individual's attention. 

Abihty to control conduct is probably the severest 
test placed upon the individual in his attempt to control 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 181 

the self. The self has not only its physical aspect and 
its mental aspect, but also a moral aspect. Man con- 
The problem ceives the difference between good and 
of moral con- evil and between right and wrong. He 
troioftheseif. can feel and say, ''I owgR" This places 
upon him the responsibility of adjusting his conduct 
with reference to certain standards or demands. 

The standards or demands that constitute the motives 
or criteria of conduct arise at three different levels of 

experience: the instinctive, the social, and 
of conduct/ ^^^ personal, or reflective. The problem, 

approached from any one of these three 
levels, is the same. It concerns the difference between 
right and wrong, between good and bad, as relates to 
conduct. 

Conduct that is dictated by instinctive tendencies 
usually has to do with the satisfying of the more funda- 
^ . . mental needs of the organism, and does not 

Instmctave . . i ^ i 

tendencies go far cnough to covcr the problems aris- 
as a guide jj^pr q^|- gf |^j^g more complex social rela- 

te conduct. . ^ t . . r ,1 • 

tions. Conduct arismg from this source 
may be entirely ethical in its character and yet not 
involve moral judgments and control. 

Certain Hues of activity are natural and the easy thing, 
and are hence done without thought and without con- 
scious self -compulsion. It is good and right to work; 
yet the motive prompting to labor does not ordinarily 
rise to the level of conscious moral control. It is also 
good and right to seek a mate, found a home, and rear 
a family; but the impulses that prompt to these activi- 
ties are chiefly instinctive and emotional. 

Conduct arising at the social level is dictated by cus- 
tom. Indeed, it was the concept of control by custom 



182 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

that gave us the Greek term ethics (ethos), and the Ro- 
man, morals (mores), both of which mean customs. That 
Social which was according to custom was right 

control and good; that is, moral and ethicaL By 

o con uct. £^j. ^j^g greater part of our conduct to- 
day is dictated by social customs. That to which society 
has given its approval is right; what society disapproves 
is wrong. It is evident that the social standard is a far 
broader and safer one than the instinctive. For social 
customs represent the collective wisdom of society 
through many generations; and what has stood the test 
of experience with many people under widely varying 
conditions cannot be wholly wrong. And these social 
standards of morality are one of society's greatest con- 
tributions to the individual. They give the groundwork 
for any reflective system of morals. 

But the individual must rise to a higher level of moral- 
ity than the customary, or social. His morality must be- 
Personai come personal. Even if he finally accepts 

control the moral standards precisely as they are 

practised by his social group, yet these 
standards must be subjected to examination and judged 
as right or wrong, as good or evil, by the individual him- 
self. They must in this sense become his own standards. 
His morality must become a personal and individual 
matter. He must consciously intend a line of conduct 
because he feels it to be right, or refuse it because he 
feels it to be wrong. Only in this way "can he rise 
to full control of the self and become moral in the 
highest sense of the term. Nor will conduct dictated 
from this level ignore the wider social interests and 
demands. On the contrary, reflective morality must 
proceed from the standpoint of social values, and the 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 183 

good chosen will include all individuals; it will be a 
common good. 

Although man has developed a moral nature and reached 
a large degree of moral control over the self, yet he is not 
Man not yet wholly master in this realm. His conduct is 
master of often at variance with the common good, 

^^^^ ' and even with his own good. He often is 

found at variance with the established social morality of 
his group, not with the desire of improving its standards, 
but because of impatience with its restraints on his con- 
duct. Instinctive tendencies that he feels are wrong are 
still given rein. Man has not attained full control over 
the self in its moral aspect. 

This lack of moral control comes less from imperfect 
knowledge of right and wrong and of good and evil than 
Victory ^^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^^ powcr to bring the conduct 

requires into Conformity with moral judgments. 

Man's instinctive tendencies are partly 
good, but they are also partly evil. His impulses lead 
now toward the right and now toward the wrong. The 
individual therefore stands constantly in the presence 
of temptation. When he would do good, evil is present 
with him. And this situation, if it is to eventuate in moral 
freedom, requires a conflict; victory cannot be won 
without a struggle. 

Man has come up through ages of conflict. He loves 

to combat the forces of the not-self, but he still shrinks 

from a struggle with the self; and moral 

Man well r i i i • /r 

trained in freedom Can be won only m conflict with 

conflict with j^j^g Self. Man has proved his heroism on 

the not-self. 

many battle-fields, and there is no physical 
danger or death that can daunt his courage. He does 
not flinch in the presence of any seemingly impossible 



184 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

task set for his intellect to accomplish. But he is in 
some sense still a coward when he confronts himself. 
Man shrinks ^^^^ Alexander, after he has conquered the 
from conflict world, he finds that he still has himself to 
wit mse . conquer. The hardest struggles and great- 
est victories still ahead of the individual lie in the field 
of moral control over the self. He has not yet fully 
reahzed in experience that it is better to rule the spirit 
than to take the city, and that there is real victory in 
going the second mile with him who compels us to go one 
mile. 

One can hardly doubt that the greatest weakness in 

our present civilization is at the point of moral control. 

Nor can there be found any other weakness 

mw-ai^control ^^ i^t^l to the Stability and success of a 

the great democracy. No perfection of the ma- 

weakness of T_« r M n r 

society. chmery of government, no excellence of 

programme on the part of the social insti- 
tutions, no amount of increase in national resources and 
wealth, and no degree of intellectual culture and develop- 
ment on the part of a people can result in permanent 
welfare and stable progress if the moral element is lack- 
ing. It becomes one of the first concerns of education, 
therefore, to develop in the individual a sense for moral 
values, and to give him the fullest possible control over 
the moral aspects of his experience. 

Man was made to rule. He not only adjusts himself 
to his environment, but also makes his environment over 
Control ^^^t it may the better suit his needs and 

(2) over further his progress. He is not only played 

environment. r . i , • t r . t. • . • 

upon by external stimuli, but he is an active 
agent in determining the nature of the stimuH. He is not 
only moulded, but he modifies. Mere adjustment to 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 185 

his environment would never advance man in social 
progress, but would only end in stagnation and leave 
civilization at a standstill. In man's mounting upward 
toward the ideal, he has carried his environment with 
him. What he found but seamed rocks in the hill-side, 
he has fashioned into the market-place and the cathedral. 
The forest trees growing but to add their substance to 
the soil, man has made into dwellings and their furnish- 
ings. The iron of the mine has been built into the ma- 
chine that will do the work of a thousand men, and the 
pigments of the soil have been spread on canvas in im- 
mortal works of art. Man has domesticated and im- 
proved the wild animals, and made his hardly less hostile 
brother of other races than his own a friend and neighbor 
instead of an enemy. 

The direction in which man modifies his environment 
is a sure index of the trend being taken by the develop- 
ment of his own powers and capacities, 
environment The type of material civilization created, 
shapes man's a^j^(j |-]^g Structure of social relationships de- 
veloped in the social institutions and voca- 
tions, are but a composite picture of the type of impres- 
sions received from environment, the way these are inter- 
preted in relation to the social aim, and the methods 
taken to reahze these interpretations through control of 
the self and its environment. It is this fact that makes it 
possible to interpret the psychology of a people or a 
period through a study of its language, its art, its indus- 
tries, and its institutions. A comparison of Roman aque- 
ducts and miHtary roads with Greek temples and statu- 
ary accurately reflects the different mental attitudes of 
the two nations in interpreting and controlling environ- 
ment with reference to a social aim. The direction of 



186 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the present movement in both material and social lines 
in America indicates a marked tendency to interpret 
environment largely in economic terms, and to exercise 
control toward this end. 

As already shown, man's control over his environment 
is conditioned by the interpretation he puts upon it. 
On the one hand, he interprets it in terms 
en^ro-L^Int 0^ knowledge, leading to control through 
depends on technique, guided by science; on the other 
of S^''^*^*''''' hand, in terms of interest, leading to selec- 
tion, or the evaluing of stimuli. The con- 
sideration of this section can be brief, for it is only neces- 
sary to apply the principles already laid down. 

Science has already been discussed as an instrument 
of control. But science is only an instrument of con- 
trol, and does not itself exert control. For 
through science is knowledge; that is, a mode of in- 

science and terpretation, and hence fulfils its function 

technique. ... , , . ^ r^ . ^ * 

m pomtmg the way to control. Control is 
ultimately a matter of expression on the part of the indi- 
vidual, the result of some activity, or response, with 
reference to a problem arising in experience. An object, 
or a situation, or making the situation over to suit the 
aim of the individual creates a demand for adjustment. 
It is at this point that technique, or skill in performance, 
arises. 

Just as technique would be impossible and wholly 
without avail except when guided by science, so science 
Interrelation ^^^ eventuate in control only through the 
of science and medium of technique. Interpretation and 
technique. expression must go hand in hand. Knowl- 

edge of the laws underlying the science of mechanics 
would be of small social value without the manual skill 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 187 

to put them into practice. All modern industries are 
built on a foundation of science, but they also require 
a highly trained technique; the factory must not only 
have its scientists, but its skilled workmen. Modern 
surgery is a great science, but it is not less a great tech- 
nique. Knowledge is power only when effectively ap- 
pKed to the solution of problems growing out of the con- 
crete situations of experience. 

It is not necessary to suggest the different lines in 
which man has already modified the face of nature through 
Control ^^^ development of science and the appli- 

secured over cation of skilled technique. Hardly a day 
nature. passes that our attention is not called to 

some new triumph of scientific discovery, or to the appli- 
cation of a law of science to the betterment of the condi- 
tions of living. The history of man's subjugation of his 
environment since the days when he was living in tribal 
relations is more wonderful than any fairy story. In that 
day he possessed but little clothing or shelter, and no 
certain means of providing himself with either. He had 
no cities and no means of transportation excepting what 
nature had given him. Steam and electricity were un- 
known. He lived under the constant dread of sickness 
and diseases for which he knew no cure. His plans and 
comfort were subject to every whim of the weather, and 
he could at best coax but a scanty living from the earth. 
He was of necessity provincial and narrow in his interests 
and sympathies, since he had no means of intercommuni- 
cation with other peoples. He seems to us of this better 
day to have lived very completely under the domination 
of hostile forces, and to have found himself within the 
control of circumstances beyond his power to modify. 
Yet these conditions have been changed and man is 



188 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

proving master in the physical world, little by little 
securing control over his material environment. 

Man has also been securing control in the social realm 
as well as in the physical. He has been developing a group 
of social sciences correlatively with the 
sodarreaim. material sciences. Through much experi- 
ence and many bitter lessons he has found 
that cruelty, oppression, and injustice are fatal to govern- 
ment; and to-day we have seized upon the concept of 
democracy, and are attempting to learn its technique. 
The organization of the family has passed through many 
different stages and been the subject of much experimen- 
tation, but the permanent monogamous relation is now 
accepted among all civilized people. Religious tolera- 
tion has supplanted the old system of persecution; the 
incidentals of creed and church organization are giving 
way, and churches are learning to work together on the 
great fundamentals in a common cause. The old hap- 
hazard method of education by means of schools set 
up, now by industrial guilds, now by individual churches, 
now by towns, and again by individuals, has given way 
before the demand for universal education supported 
and controlled by the state. A marvellously complex and 
interdependent system of industries and commerce has 
taken the place of the old individualistic methods of pro- 
duction and distribution. In place of the early systems 
of barter and exchange in the transfer of commodities, 
a convenient and safe system of money has been devised, 
and this finally supplemented by a more complex sys- 
tem of credit currency. But further illustrations are 
unnecessary. In his relations with his fellows, man has 
met problems that as insistently demand solution as the 
problems met in the physical realm. And these problems 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 189 

have meant thought, experiment, verification, h5T)oth- 
eses, theories, and laws in the social realm as in the ma- 
terial. Thus has been gathering a body of knowledge of 
social relations to guide in the development of a social 
technique. 

But in spite of this marvellous social progress, man is 
yet less efficient in control in the social realm than in the 
^ x_ , • physical. The social sciences are less 

Control in ^ •' i i i i i i • i i 

social realm thoroughly developed and organized than 
lags behind ^]^g material sciences. It is true that the 

the physical. i i <• • i • 

world of social environment presents greater 
difficulties than the world of material environment; be- 
cause of his very nature, man is a harder subject to study 
and understand than are the lower forms of life. But this 
is not the only reason for the relative lack of control in 
the field of the social relations. The problems of material 
environment have pressed harder upon man than the 
problems of the social environment, and hence have se- 
cured first attention. So much is this the case that the 
term ''science " yet means to many people only knowledge 
of material things and their laws. 

And even when social science has sufficiently de- 
veloped to serve as a guide for technique, social tech- 
^ . , . nique is more difficult than technique in 

Social science i . i • r • i ^ ■» 

and technique the mdustrics; for social control has to 
more difficult ^q ^^}j self-active pcrsons and not with 

than physical. . . f_ . . 

inanimate matter. Hence it is that, with 
all our knowledge of political institutions and our experi- 
ence in administering governments, the machinery of 
the state does riot always run smoothly and efficiently. 
Our laws are not all just, and those that are just are not 
always justly enforced. The relations of labor and capital 
are so far from being settled that the question constitutes 



190 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

one of the severest strains on social unity. In spite of 
the efforts of home, school, church, and state, we are 
unable to control crime either at its origin or its outcome. 
For we now have in the United States the largest pro- 
portion of serious crimes of any civilized nation, and this 
proportion is on the increase; nor are we much more 
successful in restraining and reforming the criminal when 
caught. State education has not yet eliminated igno- 
rance and inefficiency, nor the church unrighteousness. 
But while all this is true, it does not indicate man's ina- 
bility to control in the social as well as in the material 
realm. It only shows the nature of the problems still 
waiting for solution, and hence indicates the points 
where further knowledge and improved technique are 
needed before full control can be exercised in the social 
environment. 

Such, in brief outline, are the powers and capacities of 

the individual, the personal capital that he invests in the 

co-operative partnership that exists be- 

education to tween himself and society, and upon which 

powers of the }^g must realize for his own welfare and suc- 
maiviaual. 

cess. At the first but potential capital, 

they must become actual through an experience process 
that we call development; that is, education. It there- 
fore becomes the business of education to stimulate and 
guide the experience process by which these powers are 
realized, brought under control, and set at work in 
social activities. The manner in which the capacities 
and powers of the individual develop will constitute the 
subject of our next discussion. 



THE POWERS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 191 



REFERENCES 

Bagley, Educational Values; Belts, The Mind and Its Educa- 
tion, ch. XVI; Dewey, Moral Principles of Education; Harris, 
Psychologic Foundations of Education; Helen Keller, The World 
I Live In; Shaler, The Individual; Thorndike, Principles of 
Teaching, chs. III-VI, also Individuality. Any standard psy- 
chologies. 



CHAPTER IX 
THE MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 

/. The General Nature of Development 

Development is the constant miracle and mystery of 
life. To-day a babe, the most helpless of animals; to- 
morrow a man, with powers at work in the 
deTelopmen^t^ world's activities. And only development 
lies between. For nothing is added; the 
increase of the child's powers is not by a process of accre- 
tion, but rather by a process of evolution. Development 
is but the unfoldment of the innate germs of powers 
possessed by the individual. 

Development is conditioned first of all by what may 

be called the original nature of the individual, his native 

powers and capacities received through 

powers of heredity. This endowment is what the 

individual individual has to build upon, and nothing 

development. ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ done for him 
will make up for any lack or shortage in this 
fundamental equipment. Nature is responsible for the 
type and amount of inheritance; education only for 
its development and use. Education must assume re- 
sponsibility for powers that are inherent in the individual 
but not called forth; but education is not responsible 
for the calling forth of powers that are lacking, or present 
in so small a degree as not to repay cultivation. To what 

192 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 193 

degree individuals differ in the type and amount of the 
inheritance of powers and capacities becomes therefore 
one of the insistent problems of education. 

But while development is limited by the hereditary 
equipment of the individual, it is conditioned not less 
Development ^Y ^^^ nature of the stimuli with which 
dependent also the individual is surrounded. For powers 

on stimuli. i *i* i ^ • r ^.i • 

and capacities do not arise of their own ac- 
cord and proceed in their growth without being called forth 
by some external necessity. They must be demanded 
by environmental conditions, and set at work in solving 
some problem which constitutes the stimulus. Thus it 
follows that an environment rich in stimuli suited to the 
powers and capacities of the individual is calculated to 
demand a wealth of response, and hence secure broad 
development. For all development, whether of mole- 
cules or men, is the product of these two factors, stimulus 
and response. The function of education may therefore 
be defined as that of surrounding the individual with the 
type and variety of stimuli that will call forth the re- 
sponses leading to desired development. This is the 
fundamental problem; all else is supplemental to it. 
Schools and equipment, courses of instruction, text- 
books, and methods of instruction are all means to this 
end. Nothing that secures the response of desirable 
powers falls short of being education, and whatever fails 
at this point is not education. We will, then, proceed to 
a somewhat closer examination of these two fundamental 
factors, stimulus and response, as determining the de- 
velopment of the individual. 



194 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



//. Inherent Attributes of the Individual Influencing 

Development 

The question of response rests immediately upon the 
inherent attributes of the individual. Indeed, response 
Individualistic ^^ ^^^ most fundamentally individualistic 
nature of thing there is. So individualistic is it that, 

response. except in the very lowest forms of life, the 

response that will be made by a given individual to a 
certain stimulus cannot be predicted with any degree of 
certainty. If a hundred individuals of the same species 
are given the same stimulus, as many different responses 
will follow, no two being alike. This must needs be the 
case, since response depends upon the type of impression 
made and upon the interpretation of this impression; 
but impression and interpretation both are modified, not 
only by the original nature of the individual, but also by 
his past experience. And so far are individuals of the 
human family from duplicating each other, even in so 
elementary a thing as the finger-prints now used as a 
means of registering and detecting criminals, that, ac- 
cording to recent estimates, forty times the population 
of the globe would have to be examined before there 
would be a chance of two individuals being found pre- 
cisely alike in their finger-prints. The individual is 
therefore the ultimate factor on the response side. The 
environment supplies the stimuli, but it remains with the 
individual to determine the nature of the response. 
Plasticity Plasticity is the first requisite of develop- 

necessary to ment. Plasticity may be defined as the ca- 
eve opment. pacity for receiving modifications from en- 
vironment and retaining these modifications. Only the 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 195 

plastic organism can change; and change Hes at the 
basis of all development. Further, only the plastic or- 
ganism can retain the effects produced in the organism 
by change; and none but permanent effects have to 
do with progress. 

The young of the human family are not plastic because 
of their youth, but they require the long period of youth 
Biological bccausc they must have plasticity. The 

meaning of lowcr forms havc no youth-time to be spent 
youth. .^ helplessness and dependence. The but- 

terfly is ready to try his wings the hour of his birth. The 
chick bursts from the shell, and almost immediately falls 
to pecking, eating, and scratching very much like its 
elders. The duck knows how to swim when it is born. 
Millions of the lower forms of animal life come into the 
world full-grown, each born an adult, able to go imme- 
diately at the complete round of his life's activities. 

But not so with human kind. The child comes into 
the world more helpless than the new-born beast, and 
destitute of all the characteristics which 
fflhl^chUd!^ later in life distinguish him from the lower 
animals. And not only must man begin 
lower in the scale than the young of lower forms, but his 
rate of development is also slower. The young animal 
playmates of the child pass hun in growth, and have 
reached their maturity while the child is yet a helpless 
dependent. While the child is climbing the ladder of 
development slowly and painfully, the lower forms at 
once leap into efficiency. 

Long period Why should it take so long a time? Our 

of human political infancy lasts twenty-one years; 

infancy. ccouomic infancy from fifteen to twenty 

years; and physical and mental infancy almost a quar- 



196 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

ter of a century. At first thought this seems like a great 
waste — a third or a half of the life gone before the pow- 
ers are at their best. Has nature erred or been less kind 
to the human young than to the lower forms? Is there 
a reason why man needs this long probationary period 
of youth and the lower animals do not? The answer is 
not far to seek. The animal can begin its activities at 
once because they are few and simple. Instincts and 
impulses inherited from the past are its guides to action. 
It finds its environment ready made and does not seek 
to change it. What its race has done from the beginning, 
it continues to do. The lower forms are not inventive. 
They are not progressive. Education is unnecessary, 
for instinct tells each individual what to do; it is im- 
possible, for the lower animal is cut short on the period 
of plasticity called youth. 

But the child confronts a very different problem. 
Man does not submit to his environment, but learns to 
Complex control it. He does not blindly follow in- 

environment stinct and impulse as does the animal, but 
modifies his instincts by experience and 
reason. Instead of a simple environment and few ac- 
tivities, man has an environment of amazing complexity 
and is called upon to perform many and diverse activities. 
The culture and wisdom gathered by the race through 
the ages the child of to-day is called upon to master and 
make a part of his own experience. The attainment of 
centuries awaits him. All the systems of philosophy, the 
triumphs of art, the beauties of literature, the discoveries 
of science — all that man has thought, and felt, and done, 
is offered the child by the past as a preparation for the 
future. And all these things and many more must in 
some degree be accomplished; and they cannot be ac- 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 197 

complished in a day. There must be a season of life 
set apart for preparation, a time when mind and organ- 
ism are in a plastic, receptive condition for the mastery 
of the matter and technique of living. 

And it is at this point that nature has been kind instead 

of cruel to man in giving him the longer period of youth. 

He must have a time when economic press- 

to^*hrchUd. ^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^' ^^^ when the wants are pro- 
vided by others; a time when state and 
nation can impose no duties of citizenship except that of 
going to school; a time when body and mind are not ripe 
for the sterner activities of life; a time when the child can- 
not be so profitably employed in any line of work as in get- 
ting ready for future work — that is, in being educated. 
Here, then, we find the answer to our question. The 
child must have a long period of plasticity because he 
must establish an almost inconceivably 
necessitates complex System of responses. He must 
education, and garner a large set of useful reactions as 
po^sfbie! habits; he must gather a great body of in- 

formation and learn to use it in adjusting 
himself to the social process; he must develop motives, 
establish standards of values, and learn the technique 
of control of self and environment. He must construct 
and reconstruct a system of personal experience that shall 
function as a guide in the control of his experience-process 
— he must be educated. And no animal that lacks the 
period of youth can be educated, for it lacks plasticity 
of nervous system. On the other hand, an animal that 
has the period of youth can and must be educated; can 
be educated, because of the plasticity of its nervous sys- 
tem, and must be educated in order to compete with and 
serve others of its species which are educated. 



198 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

A period of helplessness on the part of the young im- 
plies helpfulness on the part of the grown. The ignorance 
of youth implies the wisdom of age. In- 
of'yoSh!'^"''^^ experience on the part of the child impKes 
experience and guidance on the part of 
adults. And the youth-time of the child is a time full of 
strange paradoxes. It is the least burdened and most 
care-free period of life; yet every child is impatient to 
have done with it and get at the more serious business of 
life. Youth is seemingly a waste time through which all 
must pass in order to reach the estate when things can 
be done that are worth while; yet a year lost out of the 
life at the age of five would cripple its ultimate achieve- 
ment far more than a year lost out at twenty-five or fifty. 
In youth the mind and brain are unripe and undeveloped; 
yet many things are learned faster and better then than 
at any other age. Youth is impulsive and lacks experi- 
ence, yet the most important and far-reaching decisions 
of life must be made in youth; for it is in youth that 
habits are formed, moral and rehgious standards are set 
up, education determined, vocation selected, and a mate 
chosen. A false step taken in youth is far more fatal than 
one taken at any other time; yet youth's pathway is 
most thickly strewn with perils and pitfalls. These con- 
ditions are inevitable, since they belong to plasticity. 
They give society its responsibility, and also its oppor- 
tunity in guiding the development of the child. 

Development is always the result of forces working 
from within and never from without. A mine may be 
"Self-activity" developed, but it never can develop, for 
the process of it is uot sclf-activc. A plant or a child can 

development. j i r -^ t. 

develop, lor it has an organizing, recon- 
structing force inherent in its inner nature. Every being 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 199 

capable of development carries the law of its own de- 
velopment within itself, and its development, normally 
evolved, is but an expression of this inner law. That the 
individual may develop in one way under certain condi- 
tions of environment, and in quite a different way under 
other conditions of environment, does not alter the fact. 
The original nature of the individual ultimately contains 
the germ of all development, and the environment only 
gives now one set of activities their adequate stimulus, 
and now another. 

The controlling influence in development exerted by 

original nature may be seen from such a simple fact as 

that from the one setting of eggs placed to 

development hatch under a hen, one egg might produce 

inherent in ^^^ eagle, another a dove, another a goose, 

individual. o ^ / 0^7 

and so on. Nor can these diverse indi- 
viduals be made to become alike by placing them all in 
the same coop after they have left their shells, and feeding 
and mothering them in the same way. The eagle may 
never become a perfect eagle nor the dove a perfect 
dove under treatment that will produce a perfect goose; 
but the eagle will remain an eagle and the dove a dove, 
and neither will tend to become a goose. Each must 
develop in accordance with the principle inherent in its 
own organism. 

The most fundamental and universal attribute of this 
inner principle or force is that it eventuates in activity. 
„ ^ , Activity is a sine qua non of development. 

No develop- . -^ 1 i i 

ment except Nothing static progresses, much less de- 
through velops. There is no mysterious something 

inherent in life which of itself produces 
growth and development, and which incidentally hap- 
pens to be accompanied by certain manifestations of ac- 



200 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

tivity. Activity is itself the controlling element in devel- 
opment, the only means by which it can take place. If 
it were possible to take a child on the day of its birth 
and give it a normal environment, but by some magic 
eliminate all the results of activity as fast as they ac- 
crued, the child might go on living for a year, ten years, 
a lifetime, and no development would have taken place, 
either physical or mental. 

Now since development grows out of an inner force so 
identified with the self that its nature serves to define 
This activity ^^^ Very Centre and core of the nature of the 
must be individual, it follows that the process of 

-ac m y. development may be defined as self-activ- 
ity. For it is the self that develops; it develops only 
through activity, and this activity must be an activity 
of the self. Stated differently, the potential in the indi- 
vidual is made actual only through self-expression; 
powers are realized only through their use; the self rises 
out of its own acts. 

Avoiding the metaphysical discussions as to the ulti- 
mate nature of the self, we may agree that the aspects 
Concreteness ^^ ^^ which we are discussing constitute no 
of the active vague, unknowable entity, but it is con- 
^® * Crete and empirical. It consists of a com- 

posite unity including a physical self, a mental self, 
and a social self, each of which is known and defined 
through its activities. Any activity, therefore, that in- 
volves the whole self will include each of these three 
aspects. If, for example, the child is to express the 
whole self in his play, the play must involve physical, 
mental, and social activities. The physical activities 
must be spontaneous and free from restraint; his in- 
terest, imagination, perception, and invention must be 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 201 

constantly employed, and all this must be accompanied 
by the stimulus of social companionship. 

It is very probable that the whole self, or even a large 
proportion of it, is seldom involved in our activities. 

The difference is plainly seen in the slow, 
self demanded, half-hearted, and forced movements of the 

boy hoeing the hated rows of corn, and the 
movements of the same boy bounding toward the base- 
ball field or the swimming-hole. The same difference is 
seen in a discouraged or uninterested student's forced, 
listless, and ineffective efforts at studying a lesson, and 
this pupiFs avid attack on an interesting story or a fas- 
cinating game. In the one case the self was in abeyance, 
and some form of external necessity prompted the ac- 
tivity; in the other case the whole self was present and 
demanding the activity. 

No doubt the indifferent boy should learn to hoe his 
corn, and do it well. This may be worth while even if 

he must be compelled by external force to 
affirm^its^cte. Perform his work. But before he will be a 

successful hoer of corn, and, more important 
still, before through hoeing corn he receives the training 
and development it has for him, he must come to exert 
the compulsion himself. The activity must come to be 
a 5e//-activity. Similarly, the student must learn to 
master his lesson, even if external necessity is required. 
But before the student secures the full measure of 
development from the lesson, his efforts must be mo- 
tived from within the self. The self must be brought 
ultimately to afhrm and support the compulsion ex- 
erted by external forces, and to take their place in 
bringing the powers into activity. Only in this way 
will activity have its full result in development and the 



202 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

self come to secure control over the processes of its own 
experience. 

Nor does this mean that the activities of the self are 
to be compelled against the current of personal inclina- 
The self must ^^^^ ^^^ desires all the time nor perhaps 
give itself fully much of the time. For, while it is often 
necessary that this be done, yet the full 
powers of the self cannot be brought into effect in this 
way. When activity is at its best, whether physical or 
mental, it has back of it all the individual's powers and 
resources. The whole being urgently calls out for and 
demands this activity. The self wills it fully and com- 
pletely; interest and desire prompt it; the entire organ- 
ism affirms it and gives itself gladly to it; no part of the 
self is latent or withheld. If it is some problem of manual 
skill, not only the cunning of the hand, but all the best 
of the mind's enthusiasm, its invention, its discrimination, 
and whatever other powers can lend themselves to the 
work in hand, are marshalled to the accomplishment of 
the task. If it is a matter for the mind to grapple and 
master, not just the memory, the simplest processes of 
association and the most elementary forms of discrim- 
ination are employed, but all the powers of the mind 
are called forth, and the subject is conceived in all its 
relations and fully assimilated to the mental possessions. 
And this makes all the difference between superficial 
learning and complete learning. 

The most powerful factor in compelling the entire self 
to participate in its activities is interest and emotion. 
Interest and ^^ ^^s dynamic side interest is one of the 
emotion the most impulsive aspccts of the mind. What 
grea mo ives. |^ attaches itself to becomes at once an 
object of response; the entire mind and organism reaches 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 203 

out for it and desires to function with reference to it — 
to see it, handle it, have to do with it, or in some way 
incorporate it as a part of experience. Interest is the 
great motive force, leading to action and achievement. 
Under its promptings, powers of the self that can be 
commanded in no other way come forward and function 
in experience, and the foundation is thereby laid for the 
exercise of compulsion through effort and the exercise 
of the will. Lacking interest, the powers of the self lag 
and will not be fully compelled by any of the ordinary 
necessities of external control. The foundation for self- 
compulsion is absent and the will cannot bring its effort 
to bear. 

The general emotional attitude is hardly less important 
than interest in its bearing on the power to bring all the 
Pleasure and ^^^^ ^^^^ action. Roughly classified, the 
pain as pleasant-feeling states prompt to full and 

mo ves. effective response, while, on the other hand, 

unpleasant-feeling states cripple action and lower effi- 
ciency. The bright, cheerful, happy mood tends to 
bring every power to its best, while the mood of dull 
and heavy character reduces power of action and ac- 
complishment. A feeling of doubt and discouragement 
presages failure, and a feeling of mastery and assurance 
goes far to insure success. 

The activities of the self are not only powerfully 
affected by the characteristic feeling responses of interest 
gQPj^j and emotion, but also by social incentives, 

incentives The influence of the social motives in exert- 

as motives. .j^g pressure on the powers of the individual 
has already been shown. The compelling force of public 
opinion is powerful, both in its restraining and in its 
stimulating effects. In industrial and commercial ethics 



204 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

it has often proved more effective than statute law; it 
is one of the greatest safeguards in poKtics; it often 
accompHshes in the administration of a school what rules 
and authority could not effect. Worthy traditions and 
high standards of scholarship render accomplishment easy 
on the part of the student, while their lack deprives him 
of a powerful incentive. The spirit of emulation aroused 
by the co-operation and competition of those in similar 
activities is a constant appeal to the powers of the self. 
The old lust for contest and the desire for mastery and 
control are revealed in their best and highest form in this 
set of motives. There is little danger in the use of social 
emulation in education, providing that it is balanced with 
social motives of altruistic nature, causing the individual 
to desire to measure himself by his companion when he 
is at his best and not under some handicap. In other 
words, emulation needs to be accompanied by the spirit 
of true sportsmanship. 

Finally, a knowledge of the objective value of the ac- 
tivity has an important bearing on the amount of the self 

Knowledge of ^^^^ §^^^ ^^^^ ^^' This is, of course, not 
the value of true of the play activities, which are an 
VI y. ^^^ .^ themselves and do not depend for 
their value on any objective utility. But in the more 
serious activities the end sought is an important aspect 
of the question. Other things being equal, the activities 
that are most closely related to personal experience, 
immediate or remote, are the ones that most appeal to 
the individual. Experience is an unbroken unity which 
permits of no gaps or breaks. The activities of the 
school must grow naturally out of those of the home and 
the community if they are to appeal. The work of the 
student must relate itself to what he is doing and think- 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 205 

ing in the run of his daily experience; leading this ex- 
perience to a broader and higher outlook, it is true, but 
vitally articulating with it in order to do this. Failure 
to connect the activities of the school with the interests 
and activities of life outside the school is probably one 
of the sources of greatest weakness in our system of edu- 
cation. This failure is not only responsible for much 
mediocre achievement in personal development on the 
part of the pupils, not all of whose powers are called into 
requisition, but it is also responsible for much of the 
elimination of pupils from school before completing the 
curriculum. 

Society has been slow in providing for the expression 
side of education. In fact, in the earlier concepts of edu- 
Piace of ex- cation expression had little or no part, 
pression in Only the necessity for impressions was con- 
development, gi^ej-ej The mind was to be ''impressed" 

with facts; knowledge was to be "stored in the mind,'' 
or was to be "imparted" to the pupil; education was 
somewhat synonymous with information. Later, this 
concept was broadened to include the interpretation of 
the facts learned. Not just the memory, but also the 
reason, was to be trained; what was learned was to be 
understood. A certain amount of information reasonably 
well understood constituted an education. It has re- 
mained for comparatively recent times to comprehend in 
its educational significance the fact that no impression has 
fulfilled its function until it has eventuated in expression. 
And it is doubtful whether even yet we fully understand 
the double relationship of expression in individual devel- 
opment: first, as the means by which development is 
accomplished, and second, as the means by which it is 
made effective in the reconstruction of experience. 



206 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

A reason has also existed on the practical side for the 
lack of emphasis on the expression phase of education in 
^ ,, , the schools. It is easier and costs far less 

reason for to cquip for the imprcssion side of educa- 

the neglect ^jqj^ than for the expression side. All that 

of expression. . j i • . i r • . i 

is needed m the former case is a teacher 
and text-books reasonably full of information; but in 
the latter case much equipment is required in the way 
of laboratories and material, workshops, gymnasiums, 
and playgrounds. And all these cost money. 

Instincts and impulses are the motives to activity. 
Each individual when born is the heir of all the genera- 
tions that have preceded him. Through 
instincts and couutlcss ages the cyclcs of life have been 
impulses in cominsf and soinG[. Each sreneration has 

development. .,.,.., ... ., 

performed its life s activities, tried out its 
various experiments, and been subject to the tests of 
environment — and thereby learned its lesson. That the 
individuals were not conscious of the import of the lesson 
learned, or even that a lesson had been learned, does not 
matter. Nor does it matter to us in this connection just 
how the lesson was acquired and transmitted. But 
somehow there has come to be ingrained in the structure 
of the organism, and in the consciousness of the race, the 
lessons from this experience of the ages. In this way the 
race has gathered up something of the power and tech- 
nique of living; it has learned how to do some things 
that were found best to do, and how to refrain from 
doing other things that were found best not to do. 
Preorganized ^^ ^^ ^^^^ that, just as many of these les- 

neurai sons did not enter into the consciousness of 

encies. those learning them, so they are not trans- 
mitted to the consciousness of the individual receiving 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 207 

them. But they are all the more universal and useful 
because they do not require consciousness for their re- 
ception or operation. They come to each individual as 
a set of preorganized tendencies to response carried 
in the nervous system. A million generations acting in 
a given way have left this particular way as their gift 
to their progeny. And thus has efficiency been accumu- 
lating. In this way the race has been standardizing its 
activities, making fruitful acts a part of racial her- 
itage and allowing unfruitful acts to drop out through 
the process of natural selection. Thus the racial habits, 
the lines of action that have been found on the whole to 
favor successful living, are transmitted to each new gen- 
eration as impulses and instincts. 

In this way each individual is enabled to start in with 
his activities where the race left off in its progress. He 
, . does not have to wait to experiment for 

Instinct a , , i i • r i ^ • 

means of the best Way to take his food, move his 

economy in body, or do a thousand other acts that are 

development. "^ r i • • ^ a ^ 

necessary for his existence and develop- 
ment. To be sure, these instinctive tendencies do not 
cover all the details of living if the individual belongs 
to the higher cycles of life. They deal rather with the 
great fundamental lines of action, and leave the highly 
specialized activities to be worked out in the course of 
individual experience. These impulses to action are so 
timed in their ripening that each one appears at the time 
when the organism needs the activity which the instinct 
prompts, and when the activity is no longer required 
the impulse drops out and the activity disappears. 

Thus the individual is supplied by the race with great 
starting-points for development ; that is, with tendencies 
to lines of action vital to the full realization of the self. If 



208 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

these starting-points are taken advantage of when at their 
height as impulses, they render development easy and 
, ^ ^ effective; if they are let go by, they soon 

Instincts are . •' i \ - ^ 

starting-points fade out from Want of use, and their advan- 
for develop- j-^ ^e is lost to the individual in his educa- 

ment. . . 

tion. It IS safe to say that there is no great 
line of development that does not have lying back of it 
a set of impulses leading to achievement if they are given 
opportunity for expression. 

The child's instinct of curiosity makes him eager to 
know; his impulse to activity makes it easy for him to 
Instincts have an interest in doing. The art impulse 

functioning opcus the way to aesthetic development and 

in education. j. • • • ^u a i. • r 

traimng m the techmque of expression. 
The dramatic impulse insures a love for stories and leads 
to efficiency in expression. The constructive impulse 
leads out to training in the manual industries and to 
the cultivation of skill. The impulse for adventure and 
daring prepares the way for the reading of history and 
literature. The rise of the social impulse prompts to 
co-operation in work and play and forms the basis for 
altruism. The problem for education is to seize upon 
these impulses and utilize them as sources of great 
lines of activity, and hence of development. Indeed, 
education may be looked upon from one standpoint 
as but a process of modif^dng through reason and ex- 
perience the responses set up in the individual by in- 
stinctive tendencies. 

A best time ^^ ^^ ^^ i^s best as a motive for activity, 

for utiHzing the impulse must be seized upon neither too 
""^ ^^^* early nor too late. There is a time when 

each of the great impulses is at its best as a force back 
of the growth of experience. The language impulse and 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 209 

the impulse to imitation have their rise early and at the 
same time. Here, then, is the great basis for language 
learning and also a suggestion of the method to be em- 
ployed. When the impulse to physical activity and 
self-expression through construction has arisen, then is 
the time for training in the arts and handicrafts. And so 
we might go on through the list of impulses; not only 
should we find them correlating with lines of develop- 
ment, but also with the educational material upon which 
development rests. It therefore becomes one of the im- 
portant problems in education to understand the funda- 
mental impulses of the individual and to effect the corre- 
lation of these educational agencies in a practical way. 
Imitation, suggestion, and language determine the 
course of development. We have already seen that cer- 
Deveiopment ^^^^ fundamental impulses of the child are 
directed by the contribution of former generations to 
suggestion ^^^ present welfare. Through the agency 

and Ian- of a preorganized nervous system arranged 

guage. ^^ respond in definite ways to adequate 

stimuli, the most necessary reactions connected with 
physical existence are assured. The tendency to take 
food, to move, to escape danger, is independent of in- 
struction, and depends upon present environment only 
for its stimuli. No intelligence is required for the initial 
operation of these acts, and no training is necessary to 
enable them to fulfil their primary function. 
, .^ ^. But nature does not provide a preorgan- 

Imitation , . . . , ^ i 

insures ized Set of rcactions large enough to cover 

appropriate g^n ^^ responses required of an individual 

response. . •<• 

of the higher order of life. In order to meet 
a wide range of environment, the reactions must be 
great in number and highly specialized. Instinct in- 



210 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

sures that the child will develop an articulate speech, but 
does not settle the question whether he shall speak Ger- 
man, English, or Chinese. It provides for the tendency 
to eat when hungry, but does not specify whether it shall 
be with his fingers, forks and spoons, or chopsticks. It 
makes certain that he will be social in his nature and de- 
sire to mingle with others, but does not dictate whether 
he shall employ the social conventions of the clown or 
the courtesan. The race did not find the particular mode 
in which these things are done of sufficient importance 
to crystallize them in instincts, hence they must be 
learned as needed. The fundamental impulses, therefore, 
only provide for the universal and biologically neces- 
sary responses, and leave the special modifications of 
these to be settled by each individual with reference to 
the demands of his environment. 

The simplest method of adapting the highly specialized 
forms of response to their social requirements is mani- 
festly for each new generation to adopt the ways of doing 
things which are followed by their social group. This 
is accomplished through imitation, or the tendency to 
respond to suggestions from others by repeating their 
acts. The instinct of imitation has its rise in the child 
at an early age, probably being at its height before the 
age of five, and slowly decreasing through adolescence, 
but never entirely losing its force. 

The increase of ultimate efiiciency effected in the in- 
dividual through imitation, and the saving in time and 
energy, both on the part of children and 

Economy and , , , , . . • t ^ 

efficiency adults, are beyond computation. Long be- 

through fQj.g ii^Q child could be successfully in- 

imitation. . , , r i • .1 

structed, and before he can conceive the 
necessity of learning the social technique of his group, 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 211 

he has begun to incorporate their methods in his reactions 
and make them an integral part of his experience. Start- 
ing with no fund of knowledge, and with no practice 
in learning, he has at the end of a few years secured a 
ready and accurate command of a difhcult language, 
having greater facility in its use than he will find possible 
to develop in any other language studied later in life. 
Through imitation he has become proficient in the social 
manners and customs of his group long before he realizes 
the value of his acquisition. In this way he comes into 
possession of the forms of play and work and secures 
his introduction into vocational activities. Through imi- 
tation he adopts the moral and religious standards of his 
social group and fits himself into its institutional prac- 
tices. The consequence is, that during the years of bodily 
and mental unripeness constituting the time when the 
individual is incapable of economic contribution to so- 
ciety, and while he still requires the care and nurture of 
the home, he has, without effort to himself and without 
expense or trouble to society, secured the most funda- 
mental and valuable part of his education. 

It is true that the capacity for imitation has also its 
dangers. For the individual will imitate an imperfect 
Dangers model as readily as a perfect one. Imita- 

inherentin tion is uncritical. Nature says to the 
imitation. child. Imitate, and he has no choice but to 

obey. Coarse and vulgar language, boorish and uncouth 
social conduct, slovenly methods of work and play, and 
faulty standards of morals and religion are as readily 
incorporated into the experience of the child as those 
of opposite character. 

When it is also considered that the period of freest 
imitation is likewise the time of the formation of personal 



212 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

habits, the responsibility of setting the models for the 
child to imitate becomes still greater. The young child 
Necessity ^^ ^^ large degree helpless between two great 

for good controlling forces, the impulse to imitate 

on the one hand, and the social models pre- 
sented him on the other. Nature commands that the 
individual imitate the acts he sees going on about him; 
society sets the pattern; habit crystallizes the acts into 
conduct, and character is formed almost before the indi- 
vidual is conscious of what is happening. 

The child's impulse to imitate affords one of the great- 
est educational opportunities. For what the child can 
Imitation to learn through imitation he learns much 
be utilized faster, morc thoroughly, and can use with 

more facility than what he learns through 
formal instruction. As a matter of economy, therefore, 
both to the child and to those who provide his instruc- 
tion, imitation should be taken full advantage of as an 
educational agent. The subjects of the curriculum that 
are most easily learned through imitation should be pre- 
sented during the imitative age, and should be so presented 
that imitation rather than formal analysis shall char- 
acterize the method employed. Thus language should 
occupy an early position in the course, but should be 
taught from the standpoint of the free use of speech 
guided and stimulated by the best models of both oral 
and written language rather than from the standpoint 
of grammar. The same principles will apply both to the 
learning of the mother-tongue and all spoken foreign 
languages. An incalculable amount of time is at present 
wasted by approaching the study of languages from the 
standpoint of grammatical analysis instead of from the 
standpoint of imitation. A similar source of waste comes 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 213 

from introducing subjects that are necessarily formal and 
analytical, such as arithmetic, into the course too early, 
while the powers of imitation are still predominating over 
those of analysis. 

Imitation naturally widens out and shades off into sug- 
gestion. In imitation the response copies the overt act 
of another individual, this act serving as 
^^ggelZr^ its stimulus. In the case of suggestion, the 
stimulus may be either an act, an object, 
or a symbol, which tends to produce a response. The 
child watches an older person swinging a hammock, and, 
copying this act, himself swings the hammock; here he 
imitates as exactly as he can the model set before him. 
But also, acting on this stimulus as a suggestion instead 
of a model, the child may tie the ends of a rope to two 
chairs and swing the rope for a hammock; suggestion 
instead of imitation now controls the response. Or the 
child sees some one take a book and begin to read. But 
the book itself soon becomes a sufficient stimulus to set 
off the reaction, and the child gets the book and goes 
through the motions of reading without waiting for the 
act of the older person to serve as an immediate model; 
he can now act from suggestion as well as by imitation. 

The ability to act through suggestion vastly increases 
the stimuli adequate to produce response. And this per- 
mits a wider range of responses, and hence 
fn^rllflr inore rapid development. If the child were 
stimuli to be wholly dependent on direct imitation, 

the'chiid.*^ his physical environment could never afford 
a very wide range of stimuli, since it would 
always be necessary to have some adult at hand first to 
respond to these natural stimuli in order that the child 
might have a model for his own response. But the power 



214 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

to act through suggestion places at the disposal of the 
child an environment rich in stimuli of widely varied 
types, and also allows him to develop an individuality of 
his own in his responses. It permits him to follow out 
the inner law governing his own development in a way 
that would be impossible acting under imitation alone. 

To be sure, the child, even in imitation, acts in an 

individualistic way. The imitative act is never precisely 

a copy of the model. Yet the play of ini- 

allows larger tiative and invention is here at a minimum. 

freedom in -^^^ until Suggestion begins to operate does 

response. ... . . 

individuality commence any rapid develop- 
ment. While imitation, therefore, serves to give the 
child an indispensable basis for originality, it is only a 
basis. An organized, growing body of experience in a 
constant state of reconstruction is possible only when the 
individual is reacting to his environment as a series of 
suggestions, and when he is left a large degree of free- 
dom in his responses. 

In both imitation and suggestion the response may be 
either conscious or unconscious of its stimulus as the de- 
Conscious and termining factor. The child may con- 
unconscious sciously seek to imitate the act of another 
response. because he thinks it desirable and wishes to 

perform it, as when boys become trapeze performers im- 
mediately upon going to the circus. But by far the 
greater proportion of imitation is performed without any 
intention of copying on the part of the one who imitates. 
The young playmates of a child who stammers are almost 
certain to contract this mode of speech; a case of St. 
Vitus dance may cause other cases by unconscious imi- 
tation; modes of speech, manners, qualities of voice, 
attitudes of mind, moods, and various other attributes of 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 215 

personality are copied unconsciously by the child from 
those about him. 

The same holds true for suggestion, though perhaps not 
to the same degree. The child at first consciously directs 
Habit tends ^^^ response to most of the suggestions pour- 
to fix ing in upon him; but the response once 
response. started in a given direction, habit takes 
hold and tends to fix the response in this one direction. 
Attention to the stimulus then falls away. While of 
course the action of habit is necessary in order to secure 
a set of automatic reactions dealing with typical situa- 
tions, yet there is a constant battle between habit and 
idea. The idea which serves as the suggestion tends to 
drop out when the response to it has become automatic 
and attention is no longer required. The problem at 
this point is to preserve a proper balance between habit 
and idea, so that there may be a constant supply of stim- 
uli for new and different reactions; that is to say, so that 
the different aspects of the environment may continue 
to serve as suggestions demanding a constant reconstruc- 
tion of experience. 

It is also true that suggestion may work unconsciously 

in determining the tastes, standards, and attitudes of 

the individual. The child reared in a home 

shapes tastes, environment of disorder, squalor, and dirt 

stajidards, and ^j} £j^(^ }^jg standards influenced by these 

attitudes. . . . 

conditions; one reared in a home of culture, 
refinement, and cleanliness will unconsciously develop 
tastes requiring these things. In Hawthorne's "The 
Great Stone Face," Ernest found his character uncon- 
sciously shaped by the influence that had played upon 
him. The prevailing quality of moods, and finally the 
disposition, is largely determined by the characteristic 



216 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

emotional atmosphere of home and school. It becomes 
one of the requisites of education, therefore, to keep the 
sources of suggestion and imitation such that the re- 
sponses shall result in progress and development. 

Language affords the child the opportunity for the 
next great advance in the range of stimuli. Once in com- 
Language niand of language, he is no longer limited 

affords a greater to natural environment and people for his 
range s imu i. 5^JJ^^1J Words come to Stand for ideas; 
a new medium of expression and communication is pos- 
sessed; people, objects, and places are created out of 
hand by means of description ; acts and events are made 
to take place through narration. Through language the 
child thus becomes independent of immediate environ- 
ment as the sole source of stimuli. Environment is gen- 
eralized, and the range of stimuli made limitless. A new 
world is opened up, and the child, through entering it, 
becomes a thinking being, able to communicate his 
thought and understand the thought of others by means 
of effective and easily used symbols. After reaching the 
language stage, development goes on with great rapidity, 
and his mental progress can be measured with fair ac- 
curacy by his growth in vocabulary and its use. 

The language impulse, like other impulses, has its rise 
when the child is ready for the activities that it prompts. 
Rise of the ^^ grows immediately out of and ministers 
language to a concrctc, growing experience. The 

impu se. reason why the child learns language is that 

he feels the need of it, his activities demand it, his experi- 
ence calls out for it. He wants to ask for this thing, call 
attention to that thing, and communicate another thing. 
To do this he must have words, and so he gropes for them. 
And, having through imitation found them, he makes 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 217 

them vitally his own by employing them in the working 
out of his immediate experience. This is the natural 
course taken by language in any stage of its development. 
While the impulse can be forced, yet it is forced with 
waste and at the cost of efficiency. A child can be taught 
to imitate words, parrot-like, when he is very young. 
But words learned in this way do not add to his language 
ability nor to his general development. Similarly, an 
older child, when in school, may be taught many words 
from the printed page so that he can pronounce them, 
and spell them, and perhaps put them into a sentence 
modelled after one in the text-book. But this does not 
add to the language equipment of the child, nor to his 
general development. Indeed its tendency is rather to 
cripple both. Development in the command of language 
is correlative with the growth and reconstruction of 
experience; neither can successfully advance without 
the other. Words must get their content from the experi- 
ence content of the individual, and the content of experi- 
ence is summed up, housed, and rendered stable through 
the use of words. 

The desire for self-realization is a motive in later de- 
velopment. Just as in his phylogenetic development 
^ „ ,. . man is compelled first to attend to the most 

Selr-realization . ^ . . 

as a motive pressmg necessities of his material environ- 
in develop- ment before he has time to reflect on him- 

ment. ,^ . , . . i i i 

self, so in his ontogenetic development the 
child follows the same order. The world of the not-self 
is the first conceived by the child ; the world of self comes 
to his consciousness only when he has progressed some 
distance in his mastery of the not-self. 

Starting at birth with simple, impulsive responses to 
purely physiological stimuli, the child soon comes through 



218 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

his reactions to his environment to a consciousness of 
the stimuli themselves. He has now made his start on 
^ J . the mastery of the not-self. Next follows a 

Predominance - . . . 

of the not-self large group of mstmctive reactions m re- 
in early sDonse to a wide range of natural and so- 

expenence. . , . ,. ^ . . . 

cial stimuli. Imitation has its rise, and the 
individual begins the great process of modifying his in- 
stinctive reactions to adapt them to a particular environ- 
ment; the not-self is looming still larger in consciousness. 
Suggestion takes hold, again vastly increasing the range 
of stimuli and more closely linking the not-self to the 
experience process. Language is added, generalizing the 
different classes of stimuli, and placing at the disposal of 
the child, without limitations as to time or place, the typ- 
ical stimuli that have entered into the experience of the 
race. The world of the not-self, the stimulus world, has 
now come to occupy a very large place in the conscious- 
ness of the individual. 

But gradually out of the activities of the experience- 
process a new order has its birth in consciousness; the 

self appears. The individual is now not 
the^seif. ^^ty conscious of the great world of stimuli 

about him, but also becomes conscious of 
himself. A new and important reality has now entered 
into his experience-process; a puzzKng reahty, it is true, 
but an interesting one. The self is no longer dimly taken 
for granted, but becomes a subject of reflection and in- 
sistent questionings as to its origin, its nature, the part 
it has to play, and its final outcome or destiny. 

Self-conscious- '^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^ty ^^ ^^^ throes of the 
ness originates Hfe-proccss. It has its risc in the crush of 

in experience. • , j j. • 

Circumstances, and comes to consciousness 
in the storm and stress — the crisis of experience. The 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 219 

meeting of an obstacle here, the overcoming of a difficulty 
there, and the confronting of an inexorable law in another ^ 
place, and the individual comes out of it all to realize 
that there are the two related orders, self, and other 
things. The power to conceive the self is an innate ca- 
pacity, a part of the original nature of the individual; 
but, like other powers, it must reach its development 
through the reactions of the self to its environment. The 
self therefore takes in large degree its form and quality 
from the character of the social process in which it comes 
to development. 

This new consciousness of the self introduces an im- 
portant factor in determining the direction and extent of 
The self development. It adds purpose, certainty, 

demands and ideals. The individual now demands 

rea zation. more than self -activity; he must attain 
self-realization. Deferred goods, and ends that cannot 
be immediately reahzed, begin to exert their influence. 
Ideals are set up for future accomplishment and plans 
are made whose fruition lies far ahead. Ability to con- 
front the disagreeable with patience and without loss of 
efficiency is being developed. All this takes place, how- 
ever, as a part of the desire for self-realization, and once 
the individual fails to see the connection between a line 
of activity and the realization of the self, the concept 
of the self loses its power as a compelHng motive. 

Through the consciousness of the self as an order 
wholly distinct from its environment, the individual is 
The sense of brought to reaHze that he is not only one 
value of the among many, a part of society, a social self, 
persona ity. |^^^ ^ person as well. He comes to see that 
he must not only aim to realize the social ideal, but, even 
more, to realize a personal ideal. There is, of course. 



220 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

no conflict between these two ideals; indeed they cannot 
exist apart; but yet they are not identical. One is respon- 
sible in some degree for the attainment of the social ideal; 
he is responsible in far larger measure for the attainment 
of the personal ideal. It matters much to the individual 
whether the social process is resulting in progress; it 
matters still more to him whether his own experience is 
resulting in personal progress; that is, in self-realization. 
Social destiny and personal destiny are closely interre- 
lated, but not wholly parallel; for the Kfe of society is 
long continued, and error may be redeemed through 
centuries of better living; but the life of the individual is 
limited to his three-score-and-ten years and mistakes 
cannot be atoned for in the flesh. 

Perhaps the first step in the conscious realization of 

the self is self-appreciation, or a recognition of the worth 

of the person. This concept is fully attained 

*56"— ^Ppr®— -1 • ft 11**11*1 p 

ciation Only as man views himself m the light of 

necessary to ^g divine Origin, his great capacities, and 
his high destiny. To take oneself seriously 
in the great life drama, to believe that he has a part to 
play which cannot quite be played by another, to believe 
that he is helping to work out a great, constructive plan, 
which involves his own destiny and that of the race, and 
to feel that his own part, though small, is of infinite im- 
portance — this concept will serve at once as balance 
wheel and motive power in experience. The individual 
who has paused to reflect seriously on his origin, his ca- 
pacities, and his destiny will hardly be satisfied with a 
small self. He will hardly question whether it is "worth 
while," even when the way seems steep and the load 
heavy, but will calmly determine, "I shall arrive;" and 
no toil will then seem too arduous if he but feels that he 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 221 

is making progress. He will hardly dare to defeat the 
larger purpose for his life by lack of purpose or by small 
purposes. What one is worth to himself, what he may do 
and be with his great powers, what his opportunities and 
responsibility as a person are — all this constitutes an ob- 
ligation and motive for self-realization transcending even 
the obligations growing out of social relationships. Nor 
will this coveted self be a selfish self. For this is a contra- 
diction of the very notion of a large self. This larger self 
will not be to hoard and laud and admire, but to serve. 
As it could have no existence outside of the social process, 
so it would have no function except as put at work in 
doing its part to further social progress. 

///. The Social Stimulus to Individual Development 

All development, as we have seen, is the product of 
stimulus and response. Response is conditioned by the 
stimulus and original nature of the individual; stimulus 
response are is the function of the environment. There 
co-or mates. ^^^ l^^ ^^ response except to some stimulus 
that calls it forth ; neither can any phase of environment 
constitute a stimulus except as it excites a response. 
Stimulus and response are therefore not only co-ordinates, 
they are also complements; each is dependent on the 
other for its very existence and reality. Nor is this a 
chance or accidental relation. The nature of the indi- 
vidual's responses is dependent upon the demands of the 
stimuli; at the same time the individual defines the 
stimuli, so far as his own powers and capacities are con- 
cerned, by the character of his response to them. Hence 
stimulus and response are but obverse and reverse sides 
of the one unitary situation in experience. 



222 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

While response is primarily individualistic in its nature, 
stimulus is chiefly social. It has already been shown that 
stimulus ^^^ natural aspect of environment is ap- 

primariiy proached and interpreted through the social, 

social. rpj^g stimuli arising from natural environ- 

ment alone may determine the character of certain of the 
more elementary forms of response, but even here the 
social motives soon begin to exert their influence. The 
rigors of the climate are the immediate stimuli compelHng 
the activities that provide clothing and shelter. These 
are a fundamental necessity for mere physical existence; 
yet social conventions almost from the first determine 
the precise form of clothing and house. Hunger requires 
the activities of the chase or the cultivation of the soil. 
But social usage prescribes certain rules for the hunt, 
and provides for ownership of the fruits of labor. 

Without doubt the wonderful natural beauty and the 
blue skies of Italy were a great stimulus to the artistic 
Influence of impulse of her people; but religious fervor 
physical and the rewards offered by the church and 

environment. society for masterpieces of art were a still 
more powerful factor in producing her wonderful galaxy 
of artists. So also the placid islands of Greece were favor- 
able for philosophic reflection; but we must look for 
the immediate forces that produced Socrates, Plato, and 
Aristotle in Greek society much more than in Greek 
geography. 

The external influences that go to shape the individual 
are therefore a combination of both physical and social 
Social and Stimuli. To the individual himself, cer- 

physicai tainly before he reaches the reflective stage 

combine. ^£ development, the physical and the social 

are never consciously differentiated. They rather unite 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 223 

to form one complex situation, whose elements he does 
not classify. When an analysis is made, it is usually 
found that the social stimuli are at the immediate point 
of contact with the individual. Yet there is always the 
background of natural stimuli upon which the social stim- 
uli rest, and which play a considerable part in shaping 
the trend of social development. For example, it is doubt- 
ful whether the famous Italian school of art could have 
developed in the midst of a highly industrial and com- 
mercial civihzation ; but neither did the natural resources 
of Italy permit the growth of such a civilization. The 
celebrated Greek philosophers would have had their 
meditations disturbed by living neighbor to Wall Street 
and Fifth Avenue; but the riches available to Greece 
did not render Wall Street and Fifth Avenue possible. 

The nature of our physical environment has had a 
great influence in shaping the social ideals of our own 
T,,- • w . times. The untold wealth of America's 

Physical factors 

influencing natural rcsourccs has exerted a constant 
American appeal to the economic impulses of our peo- 

development. i * • i mi i 

pie. A rich soil has stood ready to return 
bountiful harvests with little labor; mines of coal, iron, 
gold, and other minerals and metals have called for de- 
velopment; immense forests have been waiting for the 
mill and the factory; great natural waterways have in- 
vited to commerce ; diversity of products and of climate 
has made many different industries possible. Added to 
this, an age of science and invention supplied the tools 
and equipment for exploitation of these great opportuni- 
ties. A virile, energetic, and cosmopolitan people were 
at hand to undertake the conquest of all this material 
wealth. The response to the stimulus afforded by such 
conditions has been a very natural one, and has simply 



224 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

followed in the line of least resistance. Social evolution 
has taken its direction from the most insistent and effec- 
tive stimuli. 

If it is asked why we do not in our civilization of the 
present have our Shakespeares and our Miltons, our 
Raphaels and our Leonardos, the answer is 
takes line of that it is entirely probable, or rather very 
most effective certain, that we do have them. The differ- 
ence is that we are making them into in- 
ventors and financiers, into captains of industry and 
scientists. Man's inherent powers cover many lines of 
development and extend to many kinds of achievement. 
And those powers that are most demanded and stimulated 
are the ones that come to fruition. We are to-day de- 
veloping in our youth what our material resources make 
possible and what our social ideals are calling forth. Our 
age is material and industrial, rather than philosophical 
and artistic. The bilKon-dollar trust, the ten-thousand- 
mile railway line, and the fifty-story office building are 
insistent, if not obtrusive, facts of our civilization. These 
things tend to £lk the standard, fire the ambition, and set 
the goal for endeavor. The response but follows the most 
pressing line of stimuli, and development in this direction 
is the inevitable result. 

Evidences of the materialistic attitude of our civiliza- 
tion can be discerned even in the schools. Our people 
are proud of their schools and lavish much 
mate^Srsm. money upon them. All administrators of 
educational systems find, however, that it is 
greatly easier to secure financial appropriations for the 
extension of school-houses and equipment than for the 
payment of adequate salaries to teachers. Society is most 
ready to pay for values that can be seen. During the 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 225 

last generation, the material side of education has vastly 
improved. Buildings, laboratories, libraries, gymnasiums, 
and equipment of all sorts have been generously suppHed 
from the public purse. But during this period of rapid 
advance in the material basis, the personal side of edu- 
cation has not been given the same support. Teachers 
have been kept on what is barely a living wage, and no 
adequate preparation for teaching is yet demanded. The 
result has been that while the brick-and-mortar aspect of 
education has made great progress, the spiritual side has 
lagged far behind. 

We may say, then, that the social matrix, the atmos- 
phere, in which each new generation receives the stimuli 
necessary to their development comes pri- 
environmentai marily from the civilization round about 
influences a them. The social institutions, the manners 

complex. 

and customs of the people, the nature and 
organization of the vocations, the habits of mind, the 
interests, and ambitions of their people are the great de- 
termining factors which go to shape their lives. On the 
other hand, the character of the soil, the streams, the 
mountain ranges, the oceans and deserts, the sky and 
the climate, have all built themselves into the social 
structure of which these things are the basis. 

These two agencies, the physical and the social, are 
inseparable. Their influence can be traced in the evolu- 
tion of all the great nations of history, and 
the immediate it is constantly at work in moulding the 
point of development of the individual. Yet it must 

contact. 

not be forgotten that the social is, after all, 
the immediate point of contact of the individual with his 
environment. Richness of soil, productivity of mines, 
and availability of lakes and streams as highways of 



226 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

commerce, mean nothing to the child until they are in- 
terpreted to him through the values put upon them by 
society. It is the social stimulus that must finally act 
as the chief factor in calling forth the powers and capaci- 
ties of the individual. Further, the development of the 
individual takes place through a growing, reconstructing 
process of experience. Experience must have content; 
and the experience content is social. Both the stimulus, 
therefore, that prompts the response and the experience 
that results therefrom are ultimately social in their 
nature. 

Two sources '^^^ social Stimuli affecting the individual 
of social come to him in two ways: (i) from what 

stimu 1. j^^y 1^^ called unorganized sources, or those 

having their origin in the heterogeneous activities of the 
social process; and (2) from the organized source that we 
call the school. 

It is, of course, obvious that the activities of the various 
social institutions and vocations are not organized with 

reference to the development and training 
I^urce^'"^ of the child. They rather have in view the 

carrying out of the social aims of the adults 
who participate as members in the social process. These 
unorganized agencies, nevertheless, constitute one of the 
most important, if not the most important, educational 
influence in the Hfe of the child. That their educational 
effects are not specifically anticipated and planned by 
society, and that they are not consciously received by 
the individual, does not lessen their efficiency. 
Powerful '^^^ home, for example, is not organized or 

educational its activities directed primarily for the train- 
agencies, .j^g ^£ ^^^ child; yet the atmosphere of the 

home, its moral and religious standards, the type of its 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 227 

social intercourse, and the nature of the fundamental 
relations that obtain there are the most important factors 
going to prepare the individual for his present or his fu- 
ture relations to the home. Similarly, the religious, civic, 
and industrial activities of society do not have as their 
end the education of the young; but the most powerful 
influences going to prepare the individual for participa- 
tion in these activities are the influences resulting to the 
child from his contact with these phases of the social 
process. Or, again, the avocations and recreative activi- 
ties of society are not shaped for their effects on the 
child; yet, out of his contact with the plays and games, 
and the social diversions and amusements of his com- 
munity, the individual develops his avocational stand- 
ards and tastes, and learns the technique of play and 
diversion. 

The great effectiveness of the stimuli coming from the 

unorganized agencies of education is due, first of all, to 

their close and vital relation to the experi- 

Source of , , . 

effectiveness ence of the chfld. Their appeal is very im- 
found in mediate and concrete. There is nothing 

immediacy. , 

distant and forced about them. Each ac- 
tivity of home or vocation is planned and carried out 
with reference to needs and desires that form a vital part 
of the experience-process. All is continuous and related ; 
no gaps are left in experience. There is not only a reason, 
but a necessity for every activity. Means are never di- 
vorced from ends, for the end is consciously in view and 
its achievement sought. Hence interest is direct and 
effort is supported by desire. 

The unorganized stimuli to development also possess a 
great advantage through the continuity of their influence 
upon the life of the individual. They begin to play upon 



228 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

him at birth and do not cease until death. Before he 
goes to school the individual has secured an amount of 
Also through education that he could ill afford to ex- 
continuity of change for all that he will receive after that 
in uence. time. While he is going to school, also, the 

unorganized stimuH continue their effect, and vie with 
the school in directing the development of the child. 
And even after the school has done its part, and the 
individual is engaged in the wider activities of the so- 
cial process, these unorganized forces are still operating 
to shape the experience-process. In a very real sense, 
therefore, all the world is a school and the whole of life 
is education. 

Through the school, society effects an organization of 
the stimuli that are to be brought to bear upon the de- 
The school vclopment of the individual. By selecting 
the instrument the most ncccssary stimuli and assembling 
them within the activities of the school, it 
is no longer left to chance to insure that the stimuli requi- 
site to development will present themselves, and at the 
right time and in the right order. In the school, society 
has invented an instrument for the carrying out of its 
purpose with reference to the education of the new gen- 
eration. Through this means any desired end in the 
development of the individual may be approximately 
reached. 

The primary function of the school is therefore easily 
defined; it is to present stimuli to the child. These stimuli 

Function of ^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ nature that they shall re- 
the school sult in responses leading to development, 

stimuli^''* Stated differently, the school is to direct 

the child's growing experience in such a 
way that it shall articulate with the wider social ex- 



MODE OF INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT 229 

perience-process. In order to this result, the control 
exercised by the school over the child's experience must 
be chiefly an indirect control. That is to say, control 
over the individual is to be exercised through controlling 
the stimuli that determine his responses. If certain lines 
of activity are desired, the stimuli appealing to this line 
of activity are to be presented; if, on the other hand, 
certain lines of activity are to be suppressed, the stimuli 
prompting to these lines are to be eliminated. Further, 
whatever acts are to be conserved as a part of the system 
of responses of the individual are to be rewarded through 
social approval, and other means of causing pleasure to 
attach to them. Similarly, acts that are to be prevented 
as a part of the habitual response of the individual are 
to be suppressed through social disapproval, and other 
forms of unpleasant experience that are made to attach 
to them. Direction of the child's development through 
control of the situations that eventuate in conduct leaves 
the way open to the individual for self-activity and for 
cultivation in the motives and technique of self-control. 
Any other form of direction exercised over the experience 
of the child substitutes artificial motives for conduct and 
fails to lead to a full development of the self. 

The control by the school over the stimuli effective 
in shaping the child's development is exerted (i) through 

the intellectual organization of the school 
which the as defined in the curriculum, and (2) in 

school exerts ^j^g social organization of the school as 

manifested in its organic unity with soci- 
ety. A further analysis of these two factors will now 
follow. 



230 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 



REFERENCES 

Betts, The Mind and Its Education, ch. XVI; Bolton, Prin- 
ciples of Education, chs. XVI, XXI-XXIII ; Dewey, How We 
Think; Fiske, Meaning of Infancy; Halleck, Education of the 
Central Nervous System; James, Talks to Teachers, chs. III-VII; 
Morgan, Animal Behavior, chs. III-V; Swift, Mind in the Mak- 
ing; T&rde, Laws of Imitation, ch. YI; Thovndike, Educatiotial 
Psychology. 



CHAPTER X 

THE CURRICULUM 

I. The Social Origin of the Curriculum 

Society offers to each new generation the aggregate 
fruits of its own achievements. From the beginning of 

human history, man has been accumulating 
culture!* culture and civilization. Out of the daily 

lives of the millions of peoples of all times — 
out of their toil and suffering, their hopes and dreams 
and deeds, have come some permanent values. Some 
phases of experience have been tried and tested until 
they have been found typical and fundamental. Culture 
and civilization consist of these valuable and more or 
less permanent aspects of social experience. 

That which remains to us as culture is, therefore, the 
sum total of social experience up to this time, with the 

mistakes and failures left out, and with that 
valuable and which was Only temporary forgotten. And 
typical from much of the experience of every generation 
experience. must thus fall by the way. For no matter 

how fruitfully man lives, or how vital the 
experience-process, a considerable proportion of his ex- 
perience has but partial and temporary value. Much that 
goes on in the social process lacks significance for any 
other social situation than that of which it forms a part, 
and hence cannot be transferred to other times and 
places. Some phases of social activity may lack value 

231 



232 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

even for their own day, and thus not be worth trans- 
mitting to others. A great deal of that which seems most 
valuable and typical to one age must of necessity possess 
less value, or even no value, for later generations who 
have grown away from the older concepts and values. 

For example, much of what was called science in the 
older day has been proved false, and we no longer study 
The tern- ^^' ^^ ^^^ ^^ relation to our life of to-day 

porary is exccpt having supplied a stepping-stone for 

orgotten. ^^^ higher knowledge. Astrology gave way 

to astronomy; the old empirical chemistry has been sup- 
planted by the modern exact science. Much that was 
taught in theology has disappeared or become the basis 
of new concepts. Matter that was prized as vital history 
has been forgotten. Tongues that prided themselves on 
their power to sway the world have ceased. Literary 
productions hailed as final in finish, form, and content 
are no longer read. Institutions have arisen, lived their 
little day, and disappeared. Only time and change are 
permanent. These are the test of all things, the measure 
of all permanent values. 

This does not imply, however, that nothing has value 
as experience except that which can withstand the rav- 

Even the tern- ^S^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ change. The pseudo- 
porary may scieuce of aucicnt times did supply the foun- 
ave va ue. dation for later scientific achievement. The 
literature of other ages than the Victorian, even if it has 
not come down to us as a permanent contribution, served 
the generations that produced it and became the foun- 
dation for other literary eras. Slavery and feudalism 
have passed away, but they seem to have been necessary 
stages of social evolution. Monarchical forms of govern- 
ment are just disappearing, but they were the only fitting 



THE CURRICULUM 233 

form at certain stages of social progress. Generalizing 
these facts, we may say that in any advancing society 
old knowledge, old philosophies, and old culture must con- 
stantly be in a state of reconstruction that shall keep pace 
with the race's progress. Without the old the new could 
not come into existence, yet the old must ever give way 
to the new. Just as youth is intolerant of age, and thinks 
that youth has the greater wisdom and the greater power, 
so the present is likely to be intolerant of the past, for- 
getting its great achievements and the debt that each 
generation owes to those that have put it into possession 
of the tools of progress. 

But even with the dropping out of the phases of cult- 
ure that are ephemeral or unfit, there still remains a vast 
amount as the result of ages of accumula- 

The vast . ... . *^ ,., , . „ 

amount of tion, and this amount is steadily and rapidly 

culture increasing with every generation. Litera- 

remaimng. . ^ 4. u ^ir^ 

tures m many tongues have crystallized 
m_an's best thoughts, his deepest feehng, and his most 
sublime aspiration. Art has made permanent his greatest 
concepts. Science has pried into so many lines that no 
one person knows more than an infinitesimal part of the 
whole. History sums up the lessons of all times and peo- 
ples. And so we might go on until we had catalogued 
all the points of contact of man with his environment. 
At every point he has been learning; experience has been 
growing; values have been taking form. Here in a poem, 
there in a mathematical formula, again in a scientific 
law, at another time in a picture or a statue, or in the 
organization of an institution, the invention of a machine, 
the perfecting of a philosophy, or the evolution of a re- 
ligion, man has been organizing and formulating the 
most vital phases of his experience. And this is what 



234 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

each generation offers to the one that follows, thus put- 
ting into its possession the incalculable riches of the ex- 
perience of countless millions of men. Nor can the new 
generation refuse the heritage; it is theirs. They must 
have it for their own development, and must conserve 
it for those that are to come after. 

It is, of course, impossible for the child to assimilate to 

his experience all, or even any large part, of this great 

. , mass of social culture. It is necessary. 

The curriculum ■, r i i ^ ' 

a selection therefore, to make some more or less arbi- 

from this trary selection from the accumulated social 

material. -^ . ,.,,., 

experience for the use of the child in intro- 
ducing him to the achievement of the race. The phases of 
social experience set out for the individual to recapitu- 
late is called the curriculum. It consists of society's se- 
lection of the best from its own achievements set apart 
and organized especially for the child. It is the gate- 
way through which the individual is to pass into a fuller 
consciousness of the collective life and achievements of 
his race. 



II. The Function of the Curriculum 

The curriculum develops the social consciousness of 
the individual. The child is lacking in perspective. He 
Social ^^^^ himself only in his relation to the pres- 

consciousness ent and to those objects whose activities 

of individual • j • j. i j. u u • • t^i. 

developed immediately touch his own experience. The 

through the distant in time and place is either unknown 

curriculum. i i • • t^ o^u ^ t. ^ 

or lacking in reality. Ihe concept has not 
yet arisen of the great succession of human generations 
of which his own life is a part. The sphere of social rela- 
tions is very narrow, and their mutual interdependence 



THE CURRICULUM 235 

has not entered the child's consciousness. The com- 
munity of interests and the continuity of social experi- 
ence do not yet appeal to him or impress him. 

All this could not well be otherwise, since the stimuli 
acting upon the child at the beginning are wholly local 
and immediate. The distant, the past, and the future 
do not greatly concern him, since they do not relate 
directly to his experiences. It is the present that creates 
the situations demanding his interest and activities; in 
a very true sense, therefore, the child lives, moves, and 
has his being in the present. 

A large part of the development of the individual is 
concerned with the broadening of this point of view. 
Development Narrowness, provincialism, and immediacy 
requires this are sigus of imperfect or retarded social 
socialization. gj-Q^th. The sense of time must come to 
include a long past and a limitless future, and the sense 
of terrestrial space to extend beyond the confines of com- 
munity or nation. Nor are these to be conceived as empty 
duration and mere physical distance, but as filled with 
human generations, each a link in the great chain of life 
that began at the beginning and will go on till the end. 
And with this concept must rise the feeling of kinship, 
the sense of relationship, with all that have come before 
and that will come after. The great opportunities open 
to the individual to-day are to be accepted as a gift from 
other times and people. The flag is to represent not only 
the freedom of our present, but also the treasure, the 
sacrifice, and the suffering of those who gave the flag 
and are maintaining its principles. ,_Literature, art, and 
science; all inventions and discoveries; the wealth of 
spiritual culture and the comforts of material civiliza- 
tion are to be accepted as bonds of human brotherhood. 



236 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

With the growth of this concept, the individual will be 
broadened in his social interests and sympathies. From 
being a member of a particular family, he will grow into 
a member of a state, a nation, a race. He will become 
socialized. 

The basis of any deep sense of relationship is the reali- 
zation of a common experience. We expect sympathy 

and understanding only from those who 
experience have had experiences similar to our own. 

the basis of Those who have together gone through 
reiatLnship. common hardships or dangers thereafter 

feel a bond of relationship. Persons uniting 
in a common cause find themselves drawn closer together 
personally. Soldiers feel a special interest in soldiers, 
artists in artists, and inventors in inventors. Member- 
ship in a common society, fraternal order, or church 
serves as a ground for personal acquaintance and relation- 
ship. Even so slight a basis of common experience as 
that of having had ancestors who were in the war of the 
Revolution creates the feeling of relationship sufficient 
for the founding of an organization united only by this 
bond. Common experience is therefore the meeting- 
ground where the consciousness of relationship and com- 
radeship emerges. It is the ground upon which the in- 
dividual must meet society and come to reaHze his part 
in the drama that is going on about him. 
\ Through the curriculum society places before the 
child an opportunity for common experience with the 

race. The phases of culture that have been 

Common ^ ... 

experience found of most value in social evolution, 

through the ^^^^ ^jjg phases that are most vitally related 

curriculum. i • i r ^ i 

to the social process of the present day, are 
organized and placed before the child that he may incor- 



THE CURRICULUM 237 

porate them in his own experience. Through mastering 
in his experience what has been wrought out in the cen- 
turies of struggle and growth on the part of his race, the 
child comes to feel himself of a kind with those who lived 
what he has to learn. He thereby comes to conceive him- 
self as one of the great family of human kind, and catches 
step with the spirit of progress in society. 

It is through mastering the technique of the manual 
arts, and learning the history of their use among other 
peoples, that the child enters into the experience of the 
workers of all time and feels himself as one with them. 
Through the study of geography he rediscovers the con- 
tinents and the oceans, the natural resources of the earth, 
and a!ll that goes to make the earth the home of man, 
thus epitomizing in his experience what the race has been 
ages in accomplishing. In his study of science, of art, 
of institutions, the opportunity is the same. The child 
recapitulates in brief the achievements of society, and 
through this common experience develops his social con- 
sciousness until it can conceive man in the large and feel 
kinship with all. 

The curriculum stimulates the activities leading to 
development. The child owes his original nature to 
The curriculum heredity; his powers and capacities come 
a stimulus to him from the race, and therefore bear 

oacmy. racial characteristics. This implies that 

ontogeny follows the trend of phylogeny; the individual 
develops under the same stimuli and according to the 
same laws that hold for the race. It is true that the 
individual takes advantage of many short cuts, and pos- 
sibly even wholly omits many aspects of racial experi- 
ence. Making allowance for this fact, we may say that 
the individual develops his powers and capacities by 



238 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

recapitulating in his experience the typical activities of 
the race. 

Just as the child at birth has implicit in him all the 
powers and capacities that will be his in the ripeness of 
The child adult life, so the race at the dawn of its 

develops history had potential in itself all the powers 

pU^uiatkigThe ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ meridian of its life. Man 
activities of has made those potential powers actual 
the race. through their use in the mastery of his 

world, and in the process he has achieved the culture 
that he offers to each new generation. The individual 
must follow the same course. The child will reach the 
development of his powers and capacities only through 
their use in solving in his experience the problems that 
the race has solved before him — through living in minia- 
ture the life that society has lived in large. 

Man owes the technique attained by the hand to the 
problems that have resulted in the evolution of the arts 
In concrete ^^^ ^^^ handicrafts; the child attains con- 
situations of trol and manual skill through that part of 
experience. ^j^^ curriculum that provides for the manual 
and industrial arts. Man developed the number concept 
through meeting those problems of social experience that 
have resulted in the growth of the science of mathematics; 
similarly, the child develops his number concept by hav- 
ing reproduced in the curriculum the situations demand- 
ing a knowledge of number. Again, man developed much 
of his ability to think through confronting in his experi- 
ence the situations whose mastery has given us the 
sciences; similarly, the child develops his power of 
thought by rediscovering the typical problems of science- 
supplied by the curriculum. 

Development occurs, as we have already seen, only 



THE CURRICULUM 239 

through the reconstruction of experience. But experi- 
ence is not empty; it must have content. The curric- 
. , ulum immensely increases the content of 

The curriculum i i .1 i, . • 1 i ^ 

broadens the the Child s experience; it also defines to the 
content of individual the typical and universal from 

experience. , . . . ,^, 

the experience of society. The content of 
experience dependent wholly on stimuli coming from the 
immediately present cannot but be narrow and trivial. 
Values are distorted, and the trivial and insignificant 
come to dominate. Through the curriculum the child 
finds himself in the presence of stimuli coming from all 
times and peoples. His thought is emancipated; he is 
freed from the accidents of time and place. His concepts 
become generalized, and his interests and sympathies 
correspondingly broadened. 

The curriculum leads the individual to adjustment in 
the social process. We have defined the aim of education 

as that of fitting the individual into the 
inthe*Sciai social activities of his time as a positive, 
process secured contributing force. This is accomplished 
curriculum! through Cultivating in the child a constantly 

growing, reconstructing experience increas- 
ingly controlled by himself with reference to social needs 
and demands. This is to say that the experience-process 
of the individual and that of society shall come more and 
more to merge, but without the individual losing his 
identity as an individual in the process. 

The chief instrument devised by society for effecting 
the union between the activities of the individual and 
Methods for those of Society is the curriculum. The cur- 
securing riculum accomplishes this end (i) through 
a JUS men . ^j^^ creation of certain attitudes, or stand- 
points, toward the various social activities; and (2) 



240 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

through providing the individual with the knowledge and 
technique required in the typical social activities. 

Each individual must have some life-theory, some 
judgment of social values, an estimate of what is most 
worth while in experience. He must con- 
o?attitude! sider how best to invest his powers in order 
to achieve the largest returns for himself 
and society. Above all, he must feel the necessity of 
making an investment of his powers, of entering fully 
into his share of the world's work and its play. To ac- 
complish these ends, the individual must have some basis 
for comparison. He cannot judge from the data supplied 
by his immediate environment. He must know what 
mankind has done, what it is now doing, and what lies 
ahead waiting to be done. He must come into touch with 
all the broad lines of the world's achievements. He must 
apprehend the meaning and value of the social institu- 
tions, and feel his relation to them. He must see the sig- 
nificance of the vocations through which the work of 
the world is accomplished and its civilization built. The 
world's science, its literature, and its art must exert its 
appeal to his experience. 

Only when the individual has thus come into posses- 
sion of the typical aspects of social culture has he ade- 
Need for quate ground for personal decision as to the 

basis for most desirable and profitable lines for the 

comparison investment of his own activities. Without 
such basis, chance, or trivial circumstance is the deter- 
mining influence, and the individual has little control 
over the processes of his own experience. He is but 
a puppet, a cog in the great wheel, the direction of 
whose turning, even, he does not know and cannot in- 
fluence. 



THE CURRICULUM 241 

The curriculum is a powerful factor in shaping the 
individual's standpoint toward the various social activi- 
„ ties and in defining his attitude toward 

Social ideals • i i ttt-i • • ^ 

to be incui- social valucs. What society puts into the 
cated through curriculum of its schools finally comes out 

the curriculum. . t . i i i i • t 

as national ideals and achievements. Let 
England decide that the aim of education is to produce 
a gentleman, poHshed and elegant of manner, impatient 
of labor, and more able to spend than to earn his money, 
and the desired product is easily secured through the 
public schools of the empire. On the other hand, let 
Germany determine to inculcate in her youth the spirit 
of patriotism for a united fatherland, and in a generation 
she can accomplish the result through the office of her 
schools. Similarly, our own schools are found to be the 
most effective agency for teaching the elements of de- 
mocracy to the milKons of foreigners who flock to our 
shores. 

If literary and aesthetic fines of study are not given a 
place in the curriculum of the schools, a national decfine 
in literature and art may be expected to 
follow. If scientific subjects are neglected, 
the nation will soon be found to suffer, by comparison 
with the nations which emphasize these subjects, in the 
record of its scientific achievements. Similarly, a cur- 
riculum rich in literary, scientific and aesthetic studies, 
but lacking all industrial and vocational subjects, has a 
tendency to produce a people who neglect industrial pur- 
suits and seek occupations in the direction taken by their 
training. Such a society will be at a disadvantage in the 
economic aspects of its social activities, and will suffer in 
competition with other nations having a curriculum 
which includes the industrial and vocational studies. 



242 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

One result of the relative neglect of vocational subjects 
and the emphasis put upon what have been called dis- 
« ,* r ciplinary studies in our schools is seen in 

Results from i i 

lack of the tendency for too large a proportion of 

vocational q^j. educated people to find occupation in 

lines where the work of the hand is reduced 
to a minimum. The consequence has been for many 
people to look upon education as a means of escaping the 
industries and attaching themselves to the professions or 
other occupations not requiring manual labor. The effect 
of this attitude has been to overcrowd nearly all profes- 
sional lines, clerkships, small mercantile positions, and 
similar occupations. 

A second result of the lack in our curriculum of sub- 
jects bearing directly upon the concrete problems of the 
Formation of social process is a corollary growing out of 
educational the result just discussed. This is the wide- 
spread notion that education is, except in 
its rudiments, for the class who do not work with their 
hands and that it does not belong to the workers. The 
relation of education to successful participation in the 
activities of vocation, home, state, or other social insti- 
tution, is not seen. The outcome of this attitude toward 
education cannot be other than to produce social caste — 
the feeling that education is for one class of society, but 
not for another; that it is for one group of occupations, 
but does not affect other groups. Thus, the great funda- 
mental aim of education, that of socializing the indi- 
vidual and increasing the force and effectiveness of the 
social bond, is defeated through the agency of education 
itself. 

It has already been shown that education does not 
consist in disciplining powers and capacities in the ab- 



THE CURRICULUM 243 

stract, but in training them to successful functioning in 
the activities of an immediate social process. Knowledge 

The concrete ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ Sake, but to give 

bearing of a basis for control in the real affairs of life, 

e ucation. Culture is not the result of the poHshing 

and refining of a set of intangible attributes of the person- 
ality, but consists in developing, balancing, and perfect- 
ing the powers and technique of the individual function- 
ing in a fruitful way in social activities. 

The concept of the disciplinary functions of the cur- 
riculum has prevailed in large degree for several centuries, 
and is even now but slowly giving way be- 

Prevalence of •'^ . r; -' 

disciplinary lore the social couccpt. Disciplmc must 
aim in finally come to be defined as synonymous 

education. , . ./ ^ 

with increased control on the part of the 
individual. The disciplined mind is the one that knows 
how to meet and solve the problems of a certain field of 
experience in the best possible way. And in order that 
the discipline shall be of value to the individual, the field 
of experience for which the discipline prepares must co- 
incide with the social activities in which he is to engage. 
Discipline, therefore, not only means power of control, 
but it implies a control that is so immediate and concrete 
that it extends to every problem met in the routine of 
experience, whether this experience be in the home, the 
shop, the office, the studio, on the farm, or any other 
form of activity whatever. 

Set over against the disciplinary aim of education has 
been the utility aim. As understood by many, these two 

utility vs. ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ty distinct, but in large de- 

discipiinary gree mutually exclusive and opposed. In 
^^^' the disciplinary concept the emphasis is 

put upon the activity of consciousness, with little reference 



244 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCx\TION 

to its content. In the utility concept, on the other hand, 
the chief emphasis is placed on the content, or information, 
side of experience. Stated differently, if the content 
of experience has no immediate or particular point of 
contact with the social activities, the educational result 
is discipline; but if the experience content immediately 
and directly touches the activities of the social process, 
the educational result is utility. The final outcome of 
discipline in education has been vaguely conceived as 
culture, and that of utility as a kind of practical ability 
lacking in the elements of culture. 

But the relationship between these conflicting con- 
cepts is not quite so simple as it would appear from this 
Relation Statement. True utility is not synonymous 

between the with mere . information any more than dis- 

two aims. • t • vi. ^* '^ 

ciplme IS synonymous with mere activity 
of mind. It is true that utility rests upon information; 
the individual must know the field with which his experi- 
ence has to deal. The content of his experience must be 
a social content, related to his activities. But mere quan- 
tity does not make information useful as a guide to experi- 
ence and hence does not constitute utility. Information 
must be organized into a unified body of knowledge capa- 
ble of functioning as a stimulus and guide to the con- 
tinuous reconstruction of experience before it becomes 
utility. It is not packed away as so many facts, or so 
much acquired technique, but is constantly utilized in 
adding to the knowledge and skill of the individual in 
mastering the problems arising from his social activ- 
ities. 

Viewed from this standpoint, there is no fundamental 
conflict between the concept of discipHne and that of 
utility in education. Or, differently stated, this point of 



THE CURRICULUM 245 

view eliminates altogether the concept of discipline as an 
end in education, in so far as it undertakes to separate the 
educative effects of any activity of con- 
efficiency sciousness from the content of conscious- 
inciudes disci- ness. The Content of experience becomes 
uimty^aims. ^^^ ^^^^ matter of consideration in educa- 
tion, and the method of organizing this 
content in the learning process the next consideration. 
The result of effective organization of valuable content in 
experience is culture. Culture is, therefore, but a name 
for the entire process, and cannot exist in the absence 
either of fruitful content or effective organization of ex- 
perience. The educational concept could without doubt 
be greatly clarified by dropping out of discussion the 
three controverted terms, discipline, utility, and culture, 
no one of which has any accepted definition, and substi- 
tuting for the vague and overlapping meaning of the three 
the term social efficiency. 

Social efficiency means the abihty to enter into a pro- 
gressive social process and do one's part toward advan- 
Meaning of ™S the interests of the whole, while at the 
social same time attaining the highest degree of 

e ciency. realization for the self. It is the function 

of the curriculum to put the individual into possession 
of the knowledge and technique necessary for the ac- 
complishment of this end. 

To illustrate: the relations in the home require not 
only right attitudes and impulses, but also a basis of 
„ . , knowledge with reference to the particular 

Social , , ° . . .11 AT 11 

efficiency problems arismg m the home. A knowledge 

as appUed to Qf home economics leadinsr to a wise ex- 

the home. , . . p ^ j e J.^ 

penditure of money for the support oi the 
home would immeasurably increase its efficiency as a 



246 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

social institution. A knowledge of certain biological laws 
and the course of genetic development is essential to the 
care and rearing of children. An understanding of the 
rules of hygienic living would greatly decrease the amount 
of sickness and disease, lower the rate of mortality, and 
increase efficiency. Knowledge of child nature and the 
laws of mental development would enable parents to 
contribute much to the education of their children. 
These matters deal with some of the greatest and most 
fundamental values of experience, and their control can- 
not be left to natural impulse or chance information 
without grave danger both to the individual and society. 

And similarly in the case of other social institutions 
and activities. Efficient participation requires knowledge 
Social ^^^ technique. To be a good citizen of the 

efficiency in state, one must have a knowledge of the 
purpose of government, of the machinery of 
his own government, and the nature of the social problems 
confronting the state. If one is to stand in right relations 
to the school and do his part as patron, taxpayer, or 
official, he requires a comprehension of the nature and 
aim of education and a knowledge of the organization 
and functions of the school as the instrument of educa- 
tion. To enter successfully into a vocation, whether in- 
dustrial, professional, or any other, the individual must 
have a concept of the place of work in human progress, 
and a particular knowledge of and technique in the vo- 
cation selected. Or, if one is to make fruitful use of the 
avocations, he must see the relation of avocations to de- 
velopment and efficiency, and learn the technique of the 
avocations chosen. 

And so we might catalogue all the more significant and 
fundamental phases of social participation, and in each 



THE CURRICULUM 247 

field we should find that the knowledge required is too 
complex, or the skill demanded too refined, to leave its 
acquisition to chance contact of the individual with 
opportunities for learning it empirically. The curriculum 
finds one of its greatest functions in equipping the indi- 
vidual for the meeting of social demands. 

///. The Content of the Curriculum 

The content of the curriculum is to be determined by 

its function. If, as we have concluded, the function of 

the curriculum is to bring to consciousness 

the curriculum in the individual a sense of social values, 

determined ^q serve as a stimulus to the development 

by aim. . , , -^ 

of his powers and capacities, and to lead to 
his adjustment in the social process, then the curriculum 
must contain the subject-matter that will accomplish 
these ends. If through the curriculum the child is to 
learn to judge and appreciate social values, it is evident 
that these values must be represented in the curriculum ; 
if, through this agency his powers and capacities are to 
receive the stimuli adequate to their development, then 
the curriculum must contain the matter that will secure 
response from the individual; or, if he is to be led to ad- 
justment in the social process, the matter of the curricu- 
lum must be of such nature as to create right attitudes to- 
ward social values and supply the knowledge and skill 
necessary to efficient social participation. 
^ . . , We may look upon the curriculum as a 

Principles 

determining scrics of stcpping-stoues by which the child 
content of mounts from the isolation of individual 

curriculum. 

consciousness and the weakness of unde- 
veloped powers to the fulness of social consciousness 



24S SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

and the strength of ripened pcnvers. It is, therefore, 
important that the curricuhun should present the very 
cream of social experience and culture. It must be well 
rounded and balanced, not omitting important phases of 
subject-matter, nor insisting on an excess of other phases. 
It must deal with what is significant and fundajiiental. 
It must not overwork the child nor crowd his time so full 
that opportunity is not given to develop a permanent 
interest in the great lines of culture and secure more than 
a smattering of knowledge about them. The field of 
culture from which the selection of the curriculum is to 
be made is so rich and so broad, and the time. of the 
child for its mastery is so short, that the problem of the 
content of the curriculum becomes one of the most vital 
questions connected with education. 

With tlie enormous increase in the amount of material 
available for the curriculum in modern times, and with 
Modern ^^^^ growing couccpt that it is through the 

enrichment of mastcry of this culturc that the child be- 

the curriculum. ' n- • ^ i c • j. 'i. • 

comes an eliicient member oi society, it is 
not strange that the curriculum has grown greatly richer 
than in earlier times. Bacon and other philosophers of 
his day dreamed of and worked upon a pansophic scheme 
of education — a plan by which the child could accom- 
plish the mastery of all social culture. No such dream 
is indulged to-day, yet the amount of material organized 
as a curriculum is ratlier appalling. Field after field 
has been opened up, and new subjects have constantly 
been seeking admission into the curriculum. Old sub- 
jects have been loth to give way, and the consequence 
has been an overcrowding of the curriculum in certain 
parts of the educational system. 

The volume of material available for the curriculum 



THE CURRICULUM 249 

has resulted in its division into various courses of study, 
each arranged with reference to tlie correlation of its sub- 
Multiplication J^'^-^'^ and the time required for its comple- 
of courses tion. This has gone on until many high 

an su jects. gchools HOW offer courscs sufficient to need 
twelve or even sixteen or twenty years for their mastery, 
instead of the four years allotted to the high-school work. 
Colleges are offering a curriculum that would require from 
twelve to twenty- five years for its com[)letion. Univer- 
sities are multiplying their courses almost endlessly, so 
that it would now take some four hundred years to cover 
the courses of the greatest universities. It has now come 
to the point, therefore, where there must not only be the 
selection of a curriculum for our schools, but also a selec- 
tion within that curriculum suiting it to the capacities 
and needs of the individual students. 

The factors that go to determine the content of the 

curriculum are chiefly three: (i) Iradilion, (2) profession- 

alism, and (s) social demands. J^adiLion 

Influence of i , . , • • i 

tradition in plays a large part m determinmg the cur- 
determining riculum. The vcry fact that education 

curnculum. r • 

must draw so largely on the past ior its 
material makes it conservative. That which has been 
found serviceable as educational material in one genera- 
tion or century has a tendency to carry over to the next 
generation or century. The old finally becomes sacred 
through its very antiquity, and he who suggests the elim- 
ination from the curriculum of anything which has long 
held its position is looked upon as an iconoclast, if indeed 
not as an irreligious and irresponsible meddler. So firmly 
do these traditional values take hold of the popular imagi- 
nation that many parents would select one certain pro- 
fession for their son, not because they think he is best 



250 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

fitted for it, but because in their minds it stands tradi- 
tionally for larger honor and position. It is not unusual 
to choose courses of study in the college or the high school 
in the same way. Nor is it strange that branches that 
have been long in the curriculum should come to be 
looked upon as absolutely essential to education; though 
many who so regard them could probably give httle or 
no reason for this opinion except that such branches have 
long been studied. The force of tradition exerts its 
influence in all phases of our experience and proves a 
valuable balance-wheel to our activities. We need to be 
saved from too readily giving up the old and tried values 
for the new. The problem is to save the old without 
allowing it to block our progress. 

It is not meant, therefore, that a branch should be 
dropped from the curriculum just because it has been 
_. , ^ , long there. The time that a subject has 

Right of a 1.1 . 1 1 1. 1 1 . 

branch to hold been m the curriculum has little or nothing 
Its place ^Q (Jq ^j^Jj |.]^g question of its remaining 

in curnculum. ^ . i . i 

there. That question should be decided 
solely upon the ability of such branch to educate the 
powers and capacities of the child of to-day for the life 
of to-day. That the branch has had value, or that it 
may have value now, will not sufl&ce. It must have greater 
value than others that are waiting for admission. If it 
can meet this test, it should be allowed to keep its place; 
if not, it should give way to more serviceable material. 
-, - A supplemental factor growing out of the 

a factor in influence of tradition is found m the matter 

determining ^f text-books. It is easy to understand that 

the curriculum. i i i mi i 

a subject that has long been taught will be 
most likely to have a well written series of texts for its 
use. From generation to generation the new text-book 



THE CURRICULUM 251 

writers profit by the mistakes as well as the successes 
of their predecessors, and an excellent series of books is 
the result. Naturally, this tends to make the teaching 
of such a branch easier for the teacher and more valuable 
for the pupil. New subjects in the curriculum must of 
necessity be under the handicap for a time of relatively 
poorly organized material and the lack of standardized 
text-books. This, of course, constitutes no reason for 
keeping a subject out of the curriculum, since it is only 
by its use that proper organization and serviceable texts 
can evolve; but it illustrates an important factor tend- 
ing toward conservation as against change. 

Professionalism is the second great factor going to 
determine the content of the curriculum. By profession- 
alism is meant the influence of educators 
professionaUsm and tcachers. This class is looked upon by 
in determining society as a group of quasi experts, whose 

the cumculum. . . i i . ^ i i • i 

opmions and advice should carry weight. 
And such should be the case. Education should be as 
much a profession as medicine or law, and a teacher's 
advice upon an educational problem should be as trust- 
worthy as a physician's upon a question of medicine or 
a lawyer's upon a question of law. 

There are two great reasons why such is not now the 
case. First, teachers and educators are not strictly a 
„ , ^ professional class at all, because they lack 

X 6fl.Cil6rS HOl / •/ 

looked on as technical knowledge of society, culture, 
professional 2,nd. the child, and the interrelations of 
these educational factors. Secondly, it is 
impossible to test the vaHdity of an educational theory 
as easily and satisfactorily as that of a medical theory 
or a theory of jurisprudence, the reason being that the 
results are so slow in education, and that there are so 
many supplemental factors to be taken into account. 



252 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Possibly it is this very difficulty in the way of accurate 
measurement of educational results that makes so many 
Inexpert inexpert critics ready to express their edu- 

criticism cational convictions. For there is nothing 

p en 1 u . ^^^^ ^j^^ average man loves more to do than 

to publish and defend his own particular educational 
creed. It therefore comes about that many who would 
not dare to show their lack of information and grasp in the 
fields of science or mathematics by writing articles or 
appearing in public lectures in these fields, rush into print 
or readily proclaim their educational doctrines with at 
least as little technical knowledge of the educational fac- 
tors as they have of science or mathematics. This prob- 
ably explains why much of the matter printed upon edu- 
cational theory is without value, and no small part of 
it actually misleading. 

The teachers themselves have comparatively little to 
say about the curriculum. It is true that there are 
Teachers say teachers here and there who are strong 
little about cuough to make their views felt. By far 

curriculum. .1 . .• r r * ^ • 

the greater proportion of professional in- 
fluence, however, is wielded by a class coming to be called 
^^ educators." Those of the latter class most responsible 
for the curriculum consist, for the greater part, of superin- 
tendents and principals in the public schools, professors 
of education and psychology in the higher institutions, 
and the authorities having to do with admission require- 
ments in the colleges and universities. 

One of the greatest professional influences at work 
in shaping the curriculum in this country during the 
last score of years has been several differ- 
thei^.^KA. ^^^ groups of educators acting as commit- 
tees appointed by the National Education 
Association. Especially important was the report of 



THE CURRICULUM 253 

the "Committee of Ten," issued in 1894. This report 
discussed educational values at great length, and recom- 
mended a high-school curriculum which received the 
sanction of the association. Naturally this curriculum 
served, with but shght modifications, as the type for 
many schools, and it has not yet fully lost its dominance. 
Similar committees recommended curriculums for ele- 
mentary schools, both grade and rural, with like results. 
The Department of Superintendence of the National 
Education Association is also a powerful factor in public 
education, and has had much to do in shaping the cur- 
riculum. 

The most important professional influence at work in 

determining the content of the high-school curriculum in 

recent years has been university and college 

Influence of i • . • 1 i 1 . r 

college authorities, acting through the medium of 

entrance their entrance requirements. It is naturally 

the ambition of each school of lower grade 
to articulate with the one next higher. Ability to do this 
is not only a warrant of the standing of the lower school, 
but also encourages its graduates to continue their edu- 
cation in an unbroken line. It is also to the interests of 
the higher institution to secure a perfect articulation of 
the lower school with itself, for it is in this way that it 
secures studehts prepared for the higher work. 

The mutual interests of secondary and higher educa- 
tion on matters relating to the articulation of the two 
. . have resulted in the forming of various 

Associations . . r ^^ 1 1 

of college associations of colleges and secondary 

and secondary schools, having for their purpose the estab- 
lishment of criteria and methods of admis- 
sion of high-school graduates into the colleges. As a re- 
sult of this co-operative work, an approximately uniform 



254 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

standard of admissions for all higher institutions has been 
agreed upon, and provision made either for a system of 
accredited high schools, whose graduates are admitted 
to the colleges without examination, or for a uniform 
system of examinations for entrance into the higher in- 
stitution. In order to accomplish the desired articulation 
of the lower and the higher schools, it has been necessary 
for each to modify its curriculum in some degree to meet 
the other. In this, as in other educational situations, 
however, the influence of the higher institution has proved 
the stronger, and the high-school curriculum has been 
shaped largely in accordance with college requirements. 

The departments and schools of education in the higher 
institutions are exerting an increasing professional in- 
influence fluence. This influence is exerted through 

of higher the membership of their faculties in the 

u ons. various educational associations already 
discussed; through the pubhcation of educational litera- 
ture; and even more through shaping the educational 
standpoint of their students, who are pursuing the study 
of education as a profession in constantly increasing num- 
bers, and who are rapidly coming to occupy the places of 
importance in educational affairs. 

Social standards and demands are slow in making them- 
selves felt educationally, but they are in the last analysis 
Influence of ^^^ ^^^ source of authority and power, 
social National ideals come at last to be expressed 

s n ar s. ^^^ conserved in the schools. There are 

two reasons why social ideals are comparatively slow in 
shaping the curriculum: First, social ideals are not al- 
ways clearly formulated; they often are but half conscious 
to the great mass of society until some leader arises who, 
by formulating the ideal, brings it to the social conscious- 



THE CURRICULUM 255 

ness. And it is evident that an ideal but half felt and 
dimly known cannot exert sufficient compulsion to secure 
a place in the curriculmn. The second reason for the 
slowness of social ideals in modifying the curriculum is 
that society does not deal directly and at first hand with 
the schools; but rather through the medium of a pro- 
fessional class, who are often slow to interpret or respond 
to a social demand. 

It is true that the theory of our educational system 
provides for small local units, with the social group man- 
aging directly their own school affairs. 
influence "^^^ ^^^^ ^ Condition does not obtain in 

not directly practice. In the case of the rural schools, 
education ^^^ State superintendent usually makes up 

and sends out a course of study which is to 
all intents and purposes binding upon the schools. The 
county superintendents insist upon the state course being 
followed, and the teachers natually obey. Without doubt 
this arrangement gives far better schools than to depend 
upon each school district to arrange for its own curricu- 
lum; but the illustration shows how far the people are 
from managing their schools directly. 

In the grades of the town and city schools the course 

has been prescribed largely by the superintendent and 

. ^. , his principals or assistants. That the school 

but indirectly . . . . 

through board is legally commissioned with the duty 

a^inistrative q( prescribing a course of study is true; but 
they, not feeling expert in such matters, 
are usually ready to sanction without modification what- 
ever curriculum the superintendent proposes. 

The high-school curriculum in the United States has 
from its inception in 1636 been largely under the control 
of the colleges and universities. The old Latin grammar 



256 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

school was confessedly a college preparatory school, and 

hence had its curriculum dictated by the college. The 

next secondary school, the academy, arose 

Movement . , '^. . 

toward social as a protest agamst the narrow curriculum 
control in the gf ^j^q grammar school, but the academy 

United States. . r n i i t- ^ i 

also soon fell under the sway of the col- 
lege and became a preparatory school. In the high 
school, the ''people's college," it was thought that so- 
ciety would have an institution that would respond im- 
mediately to the needs and ideals of the people. But 
after half or three-quarters of a century of existence the 
high schools, as has already been shown, find themselves 
very largely college preparatory schools. Many of the 
middle-sized and smaller ones are straining every nerve 
to meet the college requirements, even to the neglect 
of some of the most fundamental branches. The college, 
being still further removed from immediate contact with 
social demands, has maintained a curriculum that has 
been dictated very completely by tradition and profes- 
sional influence. 

The ultimate source of authority in determining the 
content of the curriculum must lie in the needs and de- 
^ . , mands of society. What the social proc- 

Curnculum . , . , . 

must respond CSS requires the curriculum must contain, 
to social When society outlives old ideals and enters 

demand. t ^ . i • i 

upon new lines of experience, the curriculum 
must change in conformity with the new conditions. In 
all progressive societies, therefore, the curriculum will 
be in a constant state of reconstruction. If the curricu- 
lum proves unable to make this readjustment in accord- 
ance with changing social demands, and continues in 
traditional but outgrown lines, it obstructs instead of 
furthering social progress. It is not meant by this that 



THE CURRICULUM 257 

the curriculum will consist of new and different subject- 
matter for each successive generation. On the contrary 
the basis of the curriculum will always be old and tried 
matter. This must needs be the case, for social changes 
work out slowly, retaining a large measure of the old 
in what seems to be new; and the curriculum always 
is conservative, lagging far behind the front in a social 
movement. 

While the social demand is to be the source of authority 
in determining the curriculum, this does not imply that 
„ ^ . , professional influence should have no place. 

Professional >a i ^ i 

factor to On the contrary, educators and teachers 

be responsive should have far more educational influence 

to social. 

than they now possess. They should come 
to be looked upon by society as true leaders in education; 
as experts whose word possesses the weight of authority. 
But their leadership must not be exerted from a point 
outside the social process. They must clearly interpret 
and formulate the social ideal, thereby bringing it fully 
to the consciousness of society as the educational aim. 
If educational leadership thus takes its cue from social 
conditions and needs, there can then be no conflict be- 
tween the professional and the social ideal, as is now 
often the case. More than this, the professional educa- 
tor should himself be an active participant in the social 
activities of his day, that he may have an effective part 
in shaping the ideals which he is to carry out in the 
curriculum and the school. 
„ ,, The selection of studies within an elec- 

Problem , • i i 

of selecting tive cumculum bccomcs m the higher phases 
studies within Qf education hardly Icss of a problem than 

curriculum. . , . 

the selection of the curriculum. With from 
two to five times as much material as the child can study 



258 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

in the high school, and from four to ten times as much 
as he can study in the college, the matter of selection 
of studies becomes one of moment. 

Too often the choice of studies depends on trivial or 
accidental considerations. The parents form a notion 
Choice often ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ must have a classical education 
depends on or the daughter a scientific education with- 
trmai factors. ^^^ ^^^ consideration of the aptitudes of the 
child or the use to which such knowledge is to be put. 
Often the advice of older schoolmates who have liked or 
failed to like certain branches is a determining factor. 
The personal equation of the teacher is also one of the 
most potent influences in determining the studies elected. 
In general there is probably too much of whim and too 
little consideration of educational values in the selection 
of subjects. 

The election of studies within the curriculum should 
rest on two broad principles: (i) the importance of the 
Two principles subjects as a part of human culture, and 
for selection particularly their relation to the social 
o stu les. process in which the child is a participant; 

and (2) the adaptability of the individual's powers and 
capacities to pursue certain lines of study and secure 
development from them. 

As an illustration of the first principle, it would seem 
that their importance in the evolution of civilization and 
Application ^^ ^^^ social activities of the present would 
of first demand that the child should have some 

pnncipe. touch with each of certain great fields of 

culture. Among these are such groups as the social 
sciences; the material sciences; language, especially the 
mother tongue; art and literature; the manual arts; 
religion and ethics. The particular phase of the fields 



THE CURRICULUM 259 

presented will depend upon the application of the second 
principle, and will, of course, involve the question of the 
age and advancement of the individual. 

With reference to the second principle, it is to be 
expected that, since the curriculum uses so small a por- 
AppUcation ^^^^ ^^ human culture, not all individuals 
of second will possess just the powers and capacities 

pnncipe. i^^^^ suited for mastery of the particular 

phase of culture presented in the curriculum. On the 
other hand, an individual may possess many excellent 
powers and capacities not demanded by the curriculum. 
It is evident, therefore, that a child's response to a cur- 
riculum is not a sure test of all his abihties, but only of 
those that specifically apply to the curriculum offered. 

It is often the case, however, that some accident or 
notion turns a child against a certain line of study which, 
if pursued under other conditions, could 
capacUy easily be mastered. Thoughtless criticism 

includes all of a study by older people, the tradition 
Un^s?"*^"^**^ of the particular school concerned upon 
this branch, poor teaching, attempting the 
subject too early or before sufficiently prepared — these 
are some of the things that may handicap a child in a 
line of study in which he might ultimately come to excel. 
It is safe to assume at the beginning that every normal 
individual has capacity for, and will develop an interest 
in, all the lines of study which are fundamental to the 
race's progress; and only after the most earnest attempts 
at mastery tmder favorable conditions should it be con- 
cluded that the failure to grasp a subject is because of a 
lack in the requisite capacity for such study. 

In response to the growing concept of social efficiency 
instead of mental discipline as the aim of education. 



260 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the content of the present-day curriculum has been 
undergoing marked changes during the last generation. 
These changes have been effected in two 
changes in ways : First, by the modification of the sub- 

content of ject-matter within certain branches; and, 

curriculum. . , 

second, by the addition of new branches 
of study. As illustrations of the first t3T)e of change may 
be mentioned the new content that has been given to 
geography, language, physiology, and in less degree, 
arithmetic. Among the additions to the curriculum are 
commercial branches, the handicrafts, music, and art. 
It is fair to say that the entire curriculum has felt the 
vitalizing influence of the social aim in education, both 
in its content and in its organization. 

Significant as these changes have been, however, we 

are obliged to concede that even if the disciplinary con- 

. cept is losing ground, it still exercises the 

concept yet dominating influence in the curriculum. It 

rules in jg responsible for at least half of the subject- 

curriculum. , , V, , 

matter given m the grades, and probably 
for more than half of what is given in the high school. 
Consider, for example, the arithmetic taught in the 
grades. First, the amount of it; a large majority of our 
schools begin training in number in the first school year 
and continue for the eight years of the elementary school. 
This is supplemented by at least three years of additional 
training in mathematics in the high school. Almost one- 
fourth of the time and energy given to education is thus 
spent in developing the concept of number. Of course, 
the mere numbering of the objects or items of our ex- 
perience does not possess any such relative importance 
as this proportion would indicate. The only explanation 
is to be found in the theory of mental discipline. 



THE CURRICULUM 261 

Much has been done recently to bring the subject- 
matter of arithmetic closer to the experience of the child, 
Arithmetic yet y^^ ^^^ greater part of our texts is still 
taught as made up of problems of difficult analysis 

iscip ne. rarely or never met with in the actual con- 
ditions of Hfe. So clearly is this type of subject-matter 
calculated to result in discipKne instead of efficiency, that 
a large majority of those who have studied mathematics 
for eleven or twelve years are without the power to add, 
multiply, divide, and subtract simple numbers with 
speed and accuracy. The summing up of a month's 
household expenses, or the computation of a bill of lum- 
ber, would severely test the skill of many intelligent boys 
and girls who have spent from eight to twelve years under 
the 'MiscipUne" of mathematics. 

The amount of time devoted to arithmetic in the ele- 
mentary school could probably be reduced one-half not 
Desirable ^^^Y without any loss in efficiency in num- 

changesin bcr, but with an actual gain. The change 

ant mstic. would Contemplate the ehmination of those 

parts of the subject whose value is intended to be chiefly 
or wholly disciplinary, and the placing of greater empha- 
sis on the phases relating to home and business activi- 
ties. This would necessitate dropping out a large pro- 
portion of the problems in the complicated forms of analy- 
sis, combinations of compound and complex fractions, 
simple fractions with large or irreducible denominators 
such as are never met with in business life, various sec- 
tions of measurements involving technical tables and 
measures, many parts of percentage not in practical use 
in the business world, the most of proportion, and nearly 
all of square and cube root. 

The arithmetic taught would then consist of much 



262 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

practice in the fundamental operations, seeking for both 
accuracy and speed; the common problems that have to 
Social ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ household, the shop, or the 

content of farm, correlating these especially with the 

arithmetic. other work of the school; common and 
decimal fractions of the denominations usually met in 
business computations; the elements of percentage as 
employed in interest and the discounts; and the compu- 
tation of the common business forms, such as bills, checks, 
and drafts, and whatever else enters into the business 
routine of the modern home. 

A criticism similar to that of arithmetic may be ap- 
plied to the subject of grammar as taught in many 
Grammar also elementary schools. Much has been done 
taught as in recent years to emphasize the expres- 

discipUne. ^^^^ ^-^^ ^£ language as against its ana- 

lytical aspect. A great deal of technical grammar is, 
however, yet given those of tender years. This mode 
of approach to language violates the natural order of 
learning, failing to make the best use of the impulses of 
imitation and expression, which are at their height in 
childhood, and which constitute the best basis for the 
attainment of facility and accuracy in speech. Gram- 
mar is logic of a rigid type, and, except for the simpler 
grammatical relations, has no place in the elementary 
school. Its position there can be defended only from 
the discipHnary standpoint, and it is so far beyond the 
grasp of the pupils of this age as to fail of whatever 
might be claimed for it on this ground if presented at a 
later stage of development. 

The loss of time in the study of language in the ele- 
mentary school is probably nearly as great as it is in 
the study of arithmetic. Much effort has been given 



THE CURRICULUM 263 

to teaching the correct forms of speech at a time when 
vital content is lacking. Facility in expression cannot 
Educational ^^ secured whcH there is nothing to ex- 
waste in press. When the child enters school the 
grammar. language impulse is strong, and further de- 
velopment in language depends far more on the acquisi- 
tion of new ideas and the development of new interests 
than on instruction in language forms. The child is 
ready enough to express his thought when he has in- 
teresting, vital thought to express; and no amount of 
training can result in language ability without this sub- 
jective demand for expression. Expression cannot be 
divorced from experience. 

The immediate activities of the child, therefore, both 

in and out of the school, are the basis of all elementary 

language training, and suggest the content 

the basis of of the language course for the elementary 

language school. The handicrafts, nature study, 

traimng. it • r i i • 

play, literature in story form, and biog- 
raphy all supply material for language content, provid- 
ing they call forth a real response that demands expres- 
sion on the part of the child. 

In the development of the individual as well as in that 

of the race, spoken language precedes written. The 

tongue is better adapted to speech than 

language the hand, hence written forms of expression 

precedes must be an outgrowth from oral forms. 

written. 

The first several years of language work 
should therefore be chiefly oral, and oral work should 
predominate over written work well toward the end of 
the elementary school course, if indeed not all the way 
through. There is grave doubt whether language should 
be differentiated as a separate study with its own text- 



264 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

book earlier than the seventh grade, although no doubt 
it should have a distinct place in the programme earlier 
than this. During the last two years of the elementary 
school course, the forms of oral and written composition 
may well be studied from a text, and the simpler rela- 
tions of words in the sentence mastered. But here as in 
the beginning the language content must relate itself to 
the experience of the individual. 

The content of geography has also undergone great 
changes under the stimulus of the social ideal. Traces 

of the old catechetical method are still to 
geography. ^^ found nevertheless, and many children 

are yet committing to memory the defini- 
tions of geographical terms, when the real objects are 
lying ready at hand for study. The names of many 
bays, rivers, gulfs, straits, and towns are learned and 
recited, never again to enter into the experience, while 
the natural environment of the child, the earth as it 
touches his own life, is but a dim reality. 

The subject of geography should lie very close to the 
experience of the child. It begins wherever his life 
Social touches nature in his environment. It 

basis of deals with the earth not as a ball of mat- 

geograp y. ^^^ revolving around the sun, nor even as 
the home of man, but as the home of himself and those 
whom he knows. The content of geography is there- 
fore synonymous with the content of the experience of 
the child as related to his own interests and activities 
in so far as they grow out of the earth as his home. 
Towns and cities begin with the ones nearest at hand. 
The concept of rivers has its rise in the stream that 
flows past the child's home. Valleys, mountains, capes, 
and bays are but modifications of those that lie within 



THE CURRICULUM 265 

the circle of personal experience. Generalizations must 
come to be made, but they must rest upon concrete 
and particular instances if they are to constitute a real- 
ity to the learner. The earth must finally be conceived 
as the home of man, but it is first conceived as the 
home of particular men. 

The earth as the home of real people, engaged in real 
activities, gives the cue for the content of geography. 
What kind of people Hve in a country, what they work 
at, what they eat, and how they live in their homes and 
their schools, what weather they have, and what they 
wear, how they travel, and speak, and read — these are 
more vital questions to the child than the names and 
locations of unimportant streams, towns, capes, and 
bays. For they are the things that touch his own ex- 
perience, and hence appeal to his interest. Only as geog- 
raphy is given this social background, and concerns it- 
self with the earth as related to social activities, can it 
fulfil its function in the elementary school. 

Few subjects have been more misused in the element- 
ary curriculum than physiology. It began with a mixt- 
Recent ^^^ ^^ medical anatomy and advanced 

changes in physiology, to which were added a few 

p ysioogy. suggestions on hygiene. Later a large 
amount of quasi-scientifLC matter was added on the ef- 
fects of narcoti(!s and stimulants. Nearly all of this 
matter was beyond the comprehension of the child, or 
else outside his interests and unrelated to his experi- 
ence. Much of such content has now been dropped out, 
and matter introduced bearing upon the conditions of 
right living and the relation of health to physical and 
mental efiiciency. 

Further reform is still needed, however, in the con- 



266 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

tent of physiology as an elementary school subject. 
The child is at this age not only in the most critical 
Social content Stage of development, but he is also form- 
to be further ing his personal habits as to the care and 
eve ope . ^^^ ^^ ^-^^ body. It is, therefore, important 

that he should learn and come to practice the element- 
ary rules of hygienic living. He should be taught the 
importance of pure air, and the ways by which it can 
be secured; the necessity for exercise, and also for rest; 
how to secure the best conditions for sleep; the neces- 
sity for cleanliness, and the way to bathe and care for 
the body; proper foods, their preparation, care, and 
manner of eating; the care of the eyes, mouth and nose; 
the simpler facts of sex and its hygiene; and the treat- 
ment of cuts, bruises and burns. Not only are these and 
similar topics adapted to the child's interest and under- 
standing, but they have a vital bearing upon individual 
and social efficiency. 

The handicrafts are a comparatively recent addition 
to the curriculum, and hence have been less subject to 

the disciplinary aim than the older sub- 
handicrafts, jects. Indeed they owe their introduction 

into the curriculum largely to the rise of 
the social concept of education. The handicrafts now 
constitute one of the most important and valuable of 
the elementary-school subjects. At tKis stage of the 
child's development the impulse to activity is very 
strong, and the time is ripe for securing muscular co- 
ordination and control. The manual activities not only 
aid greatly in this development of the individual, but 
they also connect very directly with the child's life out- 
side the school, and thus serve to articulate the activi- 
ties of the school with the wider social activities of the 



THE CURRICULUM 267 

home and the community. It is hard to estimate the 
great socializing effect of this influence. 

Music is also one of the later subjects of the curricu- 
lum. It not only ministers to a natural impulse of the 
_, . individual, but develops one of the most 

Music. . ' \ 

important aspects of his nature as relates 
to social participation. Almost every normal child can 
be easily taught to sing, and all can be led to enjoy and 
appreciate music. It is not the function of the school 
to develop musical artists, but to lay the foundation of 
interest, knowledge, and skill necessary to the enjoyment 
of music by all. 

Art is at present winning its way into the curriculum. 
A generation ago it was a pedagogical crime for a child 

to take time from his lessons to draw a 

Art. . . . . . 

picture in school. Drawing, pamtmg, and 
modelling are now an integral part of the curriculum of 
many schools. Here again the social has triumphed over 
the disciplinary aim in securing a place for a vital sub- 
ject. The aesthetic instinct is strong in childhood, and 
hence this is the time to shape the artistic tastes and 
standards. Just as in music, it is not the purpose of the 
school to produce finished artists, but rather to use art 
as a medium of expression for the child, and to culti- 
vate through a study of pictures, statuary, architecture, 
and other forms of art, an appreciation for the beautiful. 
The secondary school curriculum has from the begin- 
ning been shaped largely in accordance with college re- 
^. . ,. quirements, and has therefore been domi- 

Disciplinary ... 

concept in nated by the disciphnary concept. Its re- 

high-schooi ^q^j^ broadening through the addition either 

cumculum. r i • T • i • n i 

of elective subjects, or elective parallel 
courses has resulted from the public demand for sub- 



268 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

jects having a more direct bearing on the social activi- 
ties. Although so high professional authority as the 
National Education Association once declared that the 
college preparatory course is the most fruitful even for 
pupils not going to college, the social mind has remained 
unconvinced, and the changes in the curriculum have 
gone on. 

The high schools that have found it possible to add sub- 
jects or parallel courses to their curriculum have thereby 
reduced the proportion of purely discipH- 

Situation in ^i. rr j • j.i ^ ±. 

high schools. ^^^y i^^a-tter oiiered, smce the greater part 
of the additions have been of other than dis- 
ciplinary character. All such schools still maintain, how- 
ever, the college preparatory course, and tradition, added 
to the prestige of admitting its graduates to college, goes 
to place this course at an advantage as compared with 
other courses of the curriculum. The large number of 
somewhat smaller high schools not able to maintain more 
than one course, but still desirous of meeting college re- 
quirements, both for their own reputation and for the 
advantage of those of their graduates who enter college, 
offer only the traditional curriculum. All students in 
these high schools are, of course, obliged to take the 
studies offered whether they are preparing for college or 
not. Below this group is yet another large group of 
still smaller high schools not able to offer more than 
three, or even two, years of the four-year course. Most 
of these schools are following out the traditional curricu- 
lum of the college entrance requirements as far as their 
work extends. It is seen from these facts that a very 
large proportion of the high-school pupils of the coun- 
try are still to be found in the traditional curriculum of 
college preparatory studies. 



THE CURRICULUM 269 

That the college preparatory course contains a large 
preponderance of discipHnary matter is evident from an 
College • S'^alysis of its content. The standard 

entrance amount of high-school work required by 

requiremen s. ^lost of the higher institutions of the coun- 
try is thirty semester units of acceptable subjects. Less 
uniformity exists as to the nature of subjects required, 
but still the divergence is not great from the following 
requirements for entrance into the arts course: 

Latin or Greek, ... 8 Geometry, ... 3 

German or French, . . 4 Material science, . 2 

English, 6 Social science, . . 2 

Algebra, 3 Elective, .... 2 

The requirements for the science course do not differ 
essentially except in the requirement of but eight units 
of foreign language instead of twelve. It should be said, 
however, that the present tendency is toward greater leni- 
ency in the nature of the subjects offered for admission. 
But it is seen that the high-school pupil who follows 
out the course just outlined will have twenty-four out 
of thirty credits in what may be called 
proportion of formal subjects. For the first four years 
disciplinary Qf Latin or Greek must be spent chiefly in 

SUD16CtS* 

the mastery of the mechanism of the lan- 
guage and very little of social content is possible. The 
spirit of Greek and Roman social life can be but dimly 
felt through the difficult medium of declensions, conjuga- 
tions, syntax, and lexicons. The first two years of Ger- 
man or French must likewise be devoted to the mastery 
of the form of the language, and little of the literary 
or social phase is possible. The content of the three 
years' work in EngKsh can be greatly modified according 



270 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

to the standpoint of the teacher, but probably at least 
half of the time is devoted to the linguistic phase of 
the study as distinct from the literary. Practically all of 
algebra, and a large proportion of geometry, is of neces- 
sity purely formal, dealing with the numbering of things, 
but not with things themselves. 

We find, therefore, approximately three-fourths of the 
high-school course of this t3^e consisting of formal sub- 
„ , . , , ject-matter. To this amount we must 

Material and . . 

social science make some addition from the material and 
taught as social scienccs growing out of the nature of 

their teaching. For example, physics is 
quite generally presented from the mathematical and 
abstract standpoint, instead of approaching the subject 
from the point of view of its relations to life and experi- 
ence. Botany is often taught as the analysis and classi- 
fication of plants, and little related to the actual experi- 
ence of the pupil. The same is true in some degree of 
chemistry, physiology, and the earth sciences. And his- 
tory has not infrequently been little more than a skel- 
eton of events and military achievements, and hence 
failed to enter into the life and spirit of society. 

It is not meant to imply in this connection that the 
formal studies of the high-school curriculum are without 
„ J value as educational material. The point 

traditional is rather that the content of such subjects 

curriculum jg not a social content, and that it does not 

not social. . , , . 

therefore relate itself directly to social ac- 
tivities. The values contained in the traditional curric- 
ulum, whatever else they may be, are not primarily so- 
cial values. And the aim attained by such subjects must 
be stated in terms of mental discipline rather than social 
efficiency. 



THE CURRICULUM 271 

The problem therefore arises as to how far the pres- 
ent curriculum enables the high school to fulfil its aim. 
What is the aim of the high school? Is it 
high school that of "disciplining the faculties" of its 
fuifiiiing^its pupils, or of developing them in social effi- 
ciency? Should it seek to prepare the few 
for college, or to fit the many for the more immediate 
social activities in which they shall engage? 

It is very necessary that we should have schools pre- 
paring for college, and that these schools should be 
easily accessible for all the people. It is f ur- 
for^couTge. ^^^^ desirable that the college and the pre- 
paratory school shall perfectly articulate, so 
that it may be as easy and natural as possible to pass 
from the high school to the college. On the other hand, 
of all the pupils enrolled in the high school at any one 
time, less than forty per cent graduate. Of those that 
graduate, a small proportion go to college. A very small 
minority, therefore, of the high-school pupils are prepar- 
ing for college. Unless the college preparatory course 
offers the best type of training for all, it would seem un- 
just to require the large proportion who will go no fur- 
ther than the high school to take this course. 

The boys who close their schooling with the high school 

are looking toward a career as merchant, farmer, ac- 

. , countant, mechanic, or in some other such 

Prepanng for . i . i i i 

immediate vocation; the girls are to become teachers, 

^°^?*?. clerks, and stenographers, or housewives. 

activities. <_j i -> 

Besides the vocational relations, each will 
function as a member of a family, a community, a church, 
as a citizen of a state, and in other social capacities. All 
must, through their education, be fitted into these so- 
cial activities, with their powers so developed that they 



272 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

may themselves attain to the fullest possible experience 
and make the largest contribution to society. In other 
words, the outcome of their education must be social 
efficiency. 

It may well be doubted whether, for example, the 
mathematical training received in the high school re- 
sults in greater efficiency in any of these 
mShematics. lines. Certainly it has no more bearing 
than the same amount of training from 
geology, music, or drawing, for the content of the high- 
school branches of mathematics has no relation to the 
non-technical social activities. Algebraic formulae are 
learned, but they are not applied to the problems of the 
farm, the home or the shop. The solution of a triangle 
is mastered, but the method is not employed in comput- 
ing the slope of a roof, the strain on a girder, or the 
excavation of a basement. 

Similarly, the relation of the study of Latin to social 
efficiency may be questioned. Its effect in producing 
facility in the use of English is urged, but 
one is justified in questioning whether the 
same amount of time spent on the study of English it- 
self would not 3deld far greater returns. The socializing 
influence of contact with Roman civilization is also pre- 
sented in defence of Latin; but the spirit of Roman 
civiHzation can be approached far more easily and effec- 
tively than through the medium of a language so diffi- 
cult that the student cannot read it after four years of 
study Says Emerson, "I should as soon think of swim- 
ming across the Charles River when I wish to go to 
Boston as of reading all my books in the original when 
I have them rendered for me in my mother tongue." 
Latin, like mathematics, must finally come back to 



THE CURRICULUM 273 

formal discipline for its defence as a part of the high- 
school curriculum, at least for those who are not going 
on into higher education. 

The same criticism may, of course, be made on Ger- 
man or French when pursued but two years, as is usually 
the case. The pupil gets only a knowledge 
langiwges. ^^ grammar and the ability to read halt- 

ingly the easiest matter. He has read no 
literature of value/and is able to read none. He therefore 
carries with him only the mental effects of his study, for 
it possesses no social content. 

English, which offers so rich a social content, may 
be so taught as to result chiefly in discipline. It may 
well be questioned whether English has 
not taken its method too largely from 
the method of the foreign languages, and been overbur- 
dened with grammar. The relation between ability in 
grammatical analysis and readiness and faciHty in the 
use of speech has not yet been established. And even 
in the teaching of literature, it is possible to make the 
formal aspect overshadow the content to such an extent 
that the human interest is lost. It is a fact greatly to 
be regretted that the high-school course in English has 
so little influence in molding the taste of the pupils in 
their reading, and leading them to a love of literature. 
Here again the social opportunity is often lost through 
aiming primarily at discipKne instead of efficiency. 

The high-school curriculum is at present undergoing 
some significant changes. A growing tendency exists to 
Changes in emphasize phases of subject-matter more 
high-school directly related to the life and occupations 
su jects. ^£ ^j^^ people. The first of the subjects to 

feel the eflects of this movement have been the ancient 



274 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

languages. Greek has almost passed away as a high- 
school branch, and the recent trend is similarly away 
from Latin, and toward scientific, industrial, and com- 
mercial lines. Algebra and geometry have not yet been 
affected by the changes going on, and will, no doubt, 
hold their present position for a considerable time. The 
material and the social sciences are being greatly revi- 
talized both in the content and method through em- 
phasizing those aspects of the subjects that bear most 
directly on concrete social interests and problems. In- 
deed, every phase of the curriculum, whatever its con- 
tent, is in some degree responding to the new social de- 
mands being placed upon education. 

One effect of these changes in the high-school curric- 
ulum will be to increase public interest in this phase of 
education, and hence ultimately to result 
these social- in a larger proportion of our population re- 
mng ten- ceiving the advantages of secondary school- 

ing. The high school itself is already feel- 
ing the influence of increased interest and appreciation 
on the part of the pupils. This is particularly true of 
the high-school boys, who are considerably exceeded in 
numbers by the girls. Careful study has shown that 
the chief cause of this shortage of boys is caused by a 
lack of interest in the studies of the traditional high- 
school curriculum, and the feeling that they have little 
bearing on practical affairs. The proportion of boys in 
the high schools of the country is at present slowly on 
the increase. And the percentage of increase is almost 
uniformly greatest in those high schools that have intro- 
duced the social efficiency courses. 

All things considered, it seems safe to conclude that 
the traditional disciplinary high-school curriculum is los- 



THE CURRICULUM 275 

ing its dominance. The educational concept of society 
is. against it as a preparation for the social activities. 
Disciplinary '^^^ pupils themselvcs havc had a taste of 
concept losing other lincs of study, and are demanding 
^^°^^ ' opportunity for broader and more vital 

subjects. And, finally, the college, the great bulwark 
behind which this course has taken refuge for several 
centuries, is shaping its entrance requirements so as to 
receive the newer subjects on equal terms with the tradi- 
tional. Social efficiency as the aim of education is 
crowding hard the ideal of discipline, and bids fair soon 
to become the ruling concept throughout the whole range 
of the curriculum. 

When education is conceived as related to the immedi- 
ate social experience of the individual instead of having 
The girl and ^^^ ^^^ function the "disciplining" of cer- 
the high-school tain "powcrs," the question is at once 
curncuum. raised whether the high-school curriculum 
should be the same for girls as for boys. This question is 
not so acute in the grade curriculum, although it has its 
beginnings as early as the seventh and eighth grades. 
But during the high-school period boys and girls cease 
to be just children, and take on qualities of sex. New 
interests arise, new ambitions are born, new plans are 
laid — the whole world of experience is reconstructed in 
accordance with concepts of values not thought of in 
the elementary school. Education takes on a deeper 
meaning. 

Fundamentals '^^^ fundamental aspects of the curric- 
the same for ulum will, of coursc, be the same for both 
both sexes. sexes; for many of the great lines of ex- 
perience are the common property of the race, and do 
not depend on sex. Both sexes alike must come into 



276 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

possession of the *' tools of knowledge," and also the 
more fundamental aspects of culture. But the most 
significant basis for the division of labor existing in so- 
ciety is that of sex. Diversity of function is far greater 
here than in the different vocations. And it is also true 
that the most vital functions performed by the two sexes 
are precisely the ones that are possessed by one sex or the 
other, and not shared in common. 

The man becomes the founder and supporter of the 
home. He seeks the mate, engages in a vocation to 
,, - , supply the economic necessities for the 

Man's rune- *i 

tions and household, and, when necessary battles to 

woman's defend the home or other social institu- 

functions. . • ^ ■, 

tions. The woman is the keeper of the 
home, and largely determines the organization of its ac- 
tivities. She is the bearer of children, their nurse, care- 
taker, comrade, and teacher. Upon her attitude toward 
the relations and activities of the home depends a great 
proportion of its happiness; upon her knowledge and 
appreciation of aesthetic values depends much of the 
quality of refinement in the home environment; upon 
her business ability depends a great part of its economic 
success; and upon her knowledge of the fundamental 
truths of procreation and the nurture and training of 
children rests not only the welfare of the individual, but 
of society as well. 

The girl has never been seriously considered in con- 
nection with the curriculum. It was centuries after sys- 
The girl tematic training for boys had been pro- 

given a boy's vided before it was thought necessary to 
curricu um. ^.^^ ^^^ ^.^^ equal opportunities for educa- 
tion. She was then admitted into the boy's school, and 
given the boy's curriculum. When schools were finally 



THE CURRICULUM 277 

organized specifically for girls, the curriculum from the 
boy's school was borrowed and made to do service for 
the girls. This was not so illogical under the disciplinary 
concept of education, for the content of the matter 
studied is, under this concept, of minor importance. 
But under the social-efficiency concept this situation 
cannot well continue. If the content of education is 
really related to the successful carrying out of one's life 
problems, then the content of the girl's curriculum, par- 
ticularly in the high school, must be different from the 
boy's curriculum. And this does not involve a question 
of either sex having a ''better" education than the other, 
as has sometimes been argued; but each will have an 
education that is different from that of the other, and 
better for its possessor in so far as it prepares for the 
particular functions of each. 

A beginning has been made in thus differentiating the 
curriculum for the sexes in providing manual training 

for boys and domestic science for girls. 
f^ftiiTsefes.'' Further differentiation still needs to be 

worked out. It is hard to defend an edu- 
cational policy that will require a girl to spend several 
of the best years of her life in the mastery of mathemat- 
ical processes and formulae which she never employs, and 
in the acquisition of the linguistic inflections and vo- 
cabulary of a language she never uses, and then send 
her into the most crucial and important experiences of 
her life in absolute ignorance of the problems to be 
confronted. 

Lines taken ^he girl has long since proved her men- 

by girl's tal ability; where her curriculum differs 

curriculum. ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ j^ j^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^^^ 

easier, but only to be related to the woman's problems 



278 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

in the home. The girl's curriculum may contain as much 
science as the boy's; but, without attempting here to 
differentiate it into its branches, it will teach her con- 
cerning foods, both as to their value and preparation; 
it will give her a knowledge of house sanitation, includ- 
ing heating and ventilation; it will instruct her with 
reference to the human body, and particularly her own 
body, together with the laws of physical development, 
health, and efficiency; it will give her a knowledge of 
fabrics, including their coloring and wearing qualities; 
and much other knowledge of immediate value. 

In the social sciences also the girl must be as well edu- 
cated as the boy; but here again, there is room for dif- 
ferentiation. She needs to study econo- 

Social science • i , •,! ,• i t i* ^ ji 

for girls. mics, but With particular application to the 

home. The economic basis of the home, 
the relation of income to expenditure, the proportion of 
expenditure that should go to the different sources of 
outlay, and the methods of judging values in purchas- 
ing for the home are types of applied economics impor- 
tant to the high-school girl. 

The girl's curriculum should contain business train- 
ing, not primarily for the store or the office, but for the 
home. Methods of keeping household ac- 

Eusiness ^ 4.1, r • i i 

training. counts, the usc 01 Commercial paper, and 

the ordinary business forms and usages are 
essential to the manager of the modern home. The 
courses in domestic science should give the high-school 
girl an opportunity to learn sewing and various forms 
of needlework. Here she should also be able to find 
instruction in the art of serving meals in the family or 
to guests. She should have opportunity to study house- 
hold art and decoration, and the art of entertaining. 



THE CURRICULUM 279 

She should find available thorough training in music 
from the standpoint of the lover of the beautiful. And 
similarly for each of the great lines of activity that await 
her in her experience as central figure in the household. 
Society demands of the woman that she efficiently man- 
age a home. Women therefore have a social right to 
the training that will prepare them for this function. 

It is true that some of these lines are not at present 
well organized for instruction, nor are teachers available 
for them in all the high schools. It is not the intention 
to recommend an immediate substitution of these lines 
for the present curriculum, but rather to suggest certain 
fundamental principles which must ultimately be worked 
out if the social concept of education is to prevail, and 
be applied to women as well as men. 



IV. The Organization of the Curriculum 

The organization of the curriculum is of hardly less 
importance than its content. The great mass of cult- 
Organization ^^^ ^^ ^^ mastered by the child cannot 
of the successfully be attacked as a miscellaneous 

curncuum. aggregate, nor in an unnatural sequence. 
A thoroughly articulated system of subject-matter 
adapted to the powers and interests of the individual 
must be devised. The broad fields of knowledge must 
be divided into various co-ordinated subjects, and these 
subjects again subdivided into related branches. The 
relation of the various branches to the stages of devel- 
opment of the child must be considered and the inter- 
relations among the studies themselves discovered. The 
different branches that are to constitute the curriculum 



2S0 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

are finally to be fitted into the scheme of years, terms, 
grades, and classes constituting the machinery of the 
school organization. 

In considering the lines of cleavage in the field of so- 
cial culture which result in the division of the curricu- 
Synthetic nat- ^^^^ ^^^^^ studies and branches, it is to be 
lire of subject- remembered first of all that social experi- 
^^ ^^' ence is primarily a unitary thing, and hence 

that culture is at root all one unbroken whole. In the 
concrete life of society, meeting its problems from day 
to day, there is no separation of science into the organic 
and the inorganic, the mathematical and the social. 
There is rather one growing and developing field or mass 
of knowledge, of which these branches come ultimately 
to be the difi'erent phases or aspects. The genetic view 
of the curriculum is therefore always a synthetic view. 
Only after a considerable field of knowledge has been 
developed can the di\T[sion into the different branches 
be made. Not until the product is relatively finished 
can it be classified on a logical basis into its related parts. 

Just as the unity of subject-matter parallels the unity 
in social life, so the principle governing the division of 
„ . , , this subject-matter into studies is identical 

Social pnn- • i i • • i r ^ • ^ 

cipies in organ- '^^th the prmciples of the social process, 
ization of the j^^ i\^q social points of coutact with inani- 

cumculum. ^ . . . 

mate nature, the inorganic sciences have 
their origin; w^here social experience meets the animate 
world, the organic sciences emerge; and where in their 
common activities men find problems arising out of these 
relations the social sciences have their birth. Each 
branch of study represents so much organized social cult- 
ure ready to be translated back into experience through 
the medium of tlie child. 



THE CURRICULUM 281 

In the organization of subject-matter into a curric- 
ulum it may be viewed from either one of two stand- 
points: the logical or the psychological. 
and the psy- The logical vicw is the view of the scien- 
choiogicai ^jg^ ^]^q takes so much of truth already 

points of view. . . , •' 

assembled and arranges it mto a consistent 
and organized body of knowledge. The logical view is 
not concerned with the processes by which this body of 
truth was discovered, but seeks for a cross-section of it 
as it stands. It does not busy itself with explorations 
seeking new fields, but charts and maps of territory al- 
ready explored. It is not concerned with processes or 
partial products, but with completed products. It does 
not have in mind the learner, but the subject-matter. 

On the contrary, the psychological view is the view of 
the learner, and not of the scientist; of the explorer, 
and not of the maker of classifications. The psycholog- 
ical view is concerned with the processes by which the 
culture was developed, and by which it can be trans- 
mitted to others. This view follows the irregular devia- 
tions of concrete experience at work upon real problems, 
rather than a classification of experience-products already 
achieved. It does not deal with theoretically complete 
products, but with partial products, so that they meet 
the immediate need. It has for its aim the incorporat- 
ing of the subject-matter into the experience of the 
child. 
^ . ^ As the learner grows to maturity and ap- 

Two points of , - . ° . . , , , 

view tend to proachcs the scientist in development, these 
become the |-^q yiews approach each other and tend to 
become identical. That is, when the learner 
has possessed himself of a considerable body of sci- 
entific truth and has mastered scientific method, he is 



282 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

then able so to control his processes of knowledge that 
he can eliminate much of the empirical cut and try, and 
can leave out many of the devious wanderings of earlier 
stages and proceed more directly to results. But the 
child must be a learner before he can be a scientist; he 
must approach subject-matter from the psychological 
point of view before he can approach it from the logical 
point of view. 

Science is ultimately more of a standpoint and a 
method in approaching subjects than a body of knowl- 
edge. It is true that science is "a classi- 
of science!^^^ fied body of knowledge." But it is also 
true that a mere classified body of knowl- 
edge divorced from the method that goes with it would 
not constitute science, but only so much of information. 
Of course the method cannot be wholly separated from 
the subject-matter, but what makes a body of truth 
science is the general principles and concepts which dic- 
tate the proper description and classification of facts 
within this field. In this sense science becomes a mode 
of thought, an organization of concepts and principles 
giving control in its particular field. 

No external classification of so much scientific truth 
can therefore constitute a body of subject-matter sci- 
ence to the child. No matter how perfect 

The child .1 tj* <• j.m ■* * *i 

must organize ^^^ co-ordmation of matter may be m its 
the material arrangement within the branch or how well 
mind. ^^^ arranged the branches of study, there can 

be no coherence of subject-matter until it 
is effected in the experience of the child. Organization 
must proceed from within, and cannot be imposed from 
without. A proper arrangement of the subject-matter 
will greatly assist in this internal organization, but the 



THE CURRICULUM 283 

relating is ultimately of the learner. Any attempt to 
enforce upon the child an organization of subject-matter 
for which he is not yet ready, or which does not fit into 
his experience, only results in memoriter work. He may 
commit the matter to memory, but he will lack the con- 
cepts and the principles of organization necessary to 
unite the facts into a coherent, useful body of knowledge. 

The final source of authority for the organization of 
the curriculum must therefore be found in the nature of 
Final source ^^^ child, and not in the scientific classi- 
of authority fication of the scholar. The character of 
m the chii . ^-^^ child's interests and activities, his nat- 
ural mode of attack on a field of experience, the method 
and order of his mind's unfolding, the final meaning and 
outcome of present attitudes and ambitions — these must 
determine the arrangement of subjects in the curriculum 
and the order of procedure within the branches them- 
selves. 

It is hardly necessary to say that the present organi- 
zation of the curriculum does not proceed from this point 
of view. The curriculum was originally 
present organ- arranged by scholars who had in mind the 
ization violates £ttest Organization of so much subject-mat- 

this principle. , ^ , , , , - , 

ter, rather than the best mode of procedure 
for the uninitiated learner in approaching this field. In- 
deed, the child mind was not thought of as being different 
in its processes from the adult mind; there was only less 
of it in power and scope. Text-books were not even ar- 
ranged in a graded series until a century or two ago. 
The child was expected to begin at whatever point in 
the subject-matter a logical classification set out as a 
beginning. The study of language was begun with 
grammar. And parsing, declensions, conjugations, and 



284 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

rules of syntax afforded the child his entrance into the 
subject. Similarly, the rules and principles of arith- 
metic, instead of concrete and practical exercises in the 
use of number, introduced the learner to the subject of 
mathematics. 

This order of procedure has been greatly modified in 
recent years, especially as to the organization of matter 
Illustrations of within a particular subject. The applica- 
the logical tion of the principles of induction to teach- 

^^ ° * ing has resulted in an attempt at a psy- 

chological instead of a logical mode of approach to many 
of the subjects. In the matter of organizing the sub- 
jects themselves into a psychological series in the curric- 
ulum, there has been less progress. It is still common to 
find the more abstract subjects, and those that are far- 
thest from the activities and experience of the child, 
placed ahead of the more concrete and vital subjects. 
Thus, in the elementary curriculum, the child is in many 
schools first given such formal branches as reading, 
numbers, and writing before the social and industrial 
activities and nature study. In the high school the 
more abstract and symbolical sciences frequently pre- 
cede the concrete and practical ones. 

Individual experience, as Well as social experience, is 
a unitary process; there are no gaps and no abrupt 
breaks. The child begins his life in the 
of^experi^nce.^ midst of Concrete social activities of the 
most immediate and vital nature possible. 
He deals with real objects, real problems, and real in- 
terests. There is nothing distant, abstract, and symboli- 
cal in the whole round of his experience. There is no 
separation of social experience from his own individual 
experience ; it is all one. There is no such thing as culture 



THE CURRICULUM 285 

or knowledge outside the processes of his own daily 
life This is the situation up to the time of entering 
school. 

Now, it is precisely upon the basis of this unity and 
concreteness of the child's experience that the curriculum 
The cue to the should be organized. The child's interests 
elementary are specifically related to the social activi- 
curnc um. ^j^^ ^^ which he participates, to people, and 
to things. Herein is the cue to the core of the curricu- 
lum for the elementary school. 

L3dng closest of all to the social experience of the 
child is the group of occupational subjects, involving 
Social ^^^ various handicrafts, drawing, painting, 

activities at and modelling. Immediately related to 
the occupations are the subjects having to 
do with nature and with man ; namely, geography in its 
broadest sense, and history approached largely from the 
biographical standpoint. Growing out of the necessities 
of these subjects, language and number will soon be de- 
manded as tools, and later, the formal aspects of sci- 
ence will be approached in the same way. It is not 
meant, of course, that this is to be a strictly chronolog- 
ical order, as all of these groups will in some degree be 
represented all the time. It is rather an order of em- 
phasis, a method of genetic procedure. 

This order is thoroughly in accord with the progres- 
sive development of experience in the child. It begins 
closest to his socialized interests and leads out to his 
environment on the social and the physical sides. The 
symbols of language and number, the so-called "tools" 
of knowledge. He farthest from the child's immediate in- 
terests and experience, and hence are given their true 
place as a means instead of an end. 



286 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Under the type of organization that introduces the 
learner to the curriculum through the medium of the 

"three R's," this is all turned about. Ac- 
organization customed to social activities based on con- 
reverses Crete and immedikte interest in people and 

things, the child is withdrawn from all this 
life, an absolute break is attempted in his experience, 
and he is given a set of books full of symbols of lan- 
guage and of number. Up to the time of entering school, 
the child has never been interested in language as Ian-, 
guage, but always as a means of expressing himself to 
those about him with reference to his wishes or needs, 
or else in interpreting their attitude with reference to 
himself. He has never been interested in number as 
number, but always for the sake of real computations 
deaHng with his own playthings or play interests. He 
has never been- interested in using his hand to produce 
symbols, "as in writing, but rather his handicraft has 
been exercised in constructing playthings or in perform- 
ing errands and duties about the home. Under the re- 
gime of the "three R's," the child is forbidden the nor- 
mal course of his accustomed experience and required to 
address himself wholly to a new type of experience, which 
lacks social activity, lacks immediacy of interests, lacks 
concreteness, lacks reality. He is given material which 
is wholly s3anbolical, in the highest degree abstract, 
and which has no immediate relation to the run of his 
daily experience. 

But shall we not, then, teach the children 
ttiT"tooi?' to read and write and number? Surely. 

It is only that manual training, geogra- 
phy, and history are to be the core of the curriculum, 
the centre of immediate activities. If such is the case, 



THE CURRICULUM 287 

the need will soon arise in the experience of the child for 
a command of reading, of numbers, and of writing. He 
will require these things in his business. He is ham- 
pered without them, hence he wants them. And when 
the need for a thing is consciously felt, the thing is half 
achieved. Not but that the cliild will have to be taught 
reading, and perhaps made to learn the multiplication 
table; but even so^ the centre of the motive lies within 
the demands of his own experience, and the effort will 
be with better effect; and further, the symbols will have 
a vital significance for him as he learns them, which they do 
7iot have under the barren system of the ^^ three i?'5," of the 
logical curriculum. 

The accompanying diagram represents the organiza- 
tion of a curriculum for the elementary school and the 
Analysis of ^^S^ school bascd on the psychological 
accompanying mode of procedure. As already stated, the 
lagram. basis of such an arrangement is found in 

the social activities of the child ; hence there is no break 
in his experience between the activities of the school and 
those outside. The social activities of the child natu- 
rally relate themselves to the handicrafts, to art, to the 
immediate natural environment, and to the social envi- 
ronment. These four lines are not at first sharply dif- 
ferentiated, but are rather different aspects of a unified 
experience: In connection with the activities in these 
subjects, language, nimiber, and writing are required; 
hence the symbols are mastered and the technique ac- 
quired. What may be called the real experience of the 
fundamental subjects possessing social content is made 
the basis for the formal experience of the ancillary sub- 
jects considered as tools. 

As the child advances through the elementary school, 



288 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

differentiation begins to take place in the various sub- 
jects. The handicrafts may subdivide into manual train- 
ing and domestic science. Art comes to in- 
dMer^enStion! ^lude painting, drawing, modelling, music, 
and designing. Nature study will involve 
lessons concerning the human body, plant life, animal 
life, and the earth as the home of man. The study of 
society will be carried on through the medium of the 
story, biography, history, and the social activities of the 
community. These subjects, with whatever subdivi- 
sions and modifications are required, together with lan- 
guage, number, and writing as tools, will therefore con- 
stitute the curriculum of the elementary school. 

The differentiation that began within the various sub- 
jects is carried still further in the high school. Manual 
„ .„ , , training expands into its various lines, and 

still further & i- ^ . .. , . , 

differentiation may eventuate m specialized vocational 
in the high training. Domestic science likewise is still 
further subdivided, and made to cover the 
most important phases of the home activities. Art in 
its various forms may be studied either from the stand- 
point of its technique or of appreciation. Science is 
represented by the organic and the inorganic groups, 
each of which is still further subdivided into its various 
branches in the order of their concreteness or their re- 
lation to the experience of the individual. The field of 
the social sciences develops into concrete sociology and 
ethics, history, civics, and economics. Mental science 
is represented by psychology and by linguistics, or the 
logical aspect of language. In the high school as in the 
elementary school the formal subjects, language and 
mathematics, are looked upon as tools and hence made 
supplementary to the subjects possessing social content. 



THE CURRICULUM 289 

The high-school curriculum therefore represents a 
much higher degree of differentiation than that of the 
Growth of elementary school; it also represents a 

scientific higher degree of generahzation. The con- 

concepts. Crete and immediate facts of the undiffer- 

entiated elementary branches have been thought into 
general truths and principles. Concepts have evolved, 
and method and technique of experience been developed. 
Mere information has been organized into science, and is 
used as an instrument of control in the further recon- 
struction of experience. The psychological point of view 
has come to approach the logical. Education is seen to 
be synonymous with experience, and social efficiency is 
conceived as its aim. 

The arrangement of branches in the high-school curric- 
ulum, like that in the elementary school, is based on the 

Arrangement of ^^^-^ure of the pupil's experience. The sub- 
branches in ject-matter must relate itself to the order 
g sc 00 ^£ ^j^g individual's interests and develop- 

ment. Material science should be approached, not 
through the generalizations and abstractions of phys- 
ics and chemistry, but through botany, zoology, geol- 
ogy, and physiology, leaving the more formal parts of 
physics and chemistry for the last. Literature should 
not begin with the writings of Chaucer, Dryden, and 
Milton, but with those whose spirit and subject-matter 
lie closer to the experience of the pupil. History should 
not start with the earliest period, causing the pupils to 
study peoples whose governments, industries, and insti- 
tutions were so different from our own that they lack 
interest and reahty to the learner. The study of civics 
should begin with the points at which the activities of 
the state touch the experience of the individual, and 



290 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

proceed outward to the federal and state organizations. 
And so on throughout the high-school curriculum. The 
psychological principle of organization will demand, 
both in the arrangement of the branches in the course of 
study and in the organization of the matter within the 
branch, that we proceed from the concrete to the ab- 
stract, and from the immediate to the more distant in 
the pupil's experience. 

REFERENCES 

Brown, The Making of Our Middle Schools; Butler, The Mean- 
ing of Education, chs. I, II; Davenport, Education for Efficiency; 
Dewey, The Child and the Curriculum; also, The Educational Sit" 
nation; Eliot, Education for Efficiency; Hanus, Beginnings of In- 
dustrial Education; Hollister, High-School Administration; Mark, 
The New Movement in Education; Monroe, History of Education, 
chs. VIII-XIV; Russell, Industrial Arts in the Elementary School; 
Snedden, The Problem of Vocational Training; Snyder, Manual 
Training in the Grades; Thorndike, Individual Differences in Ed- 
ucation; Tyler, Growth and Education, chs. XI-XVI; Mathematics 
in the Elementary School, Bulletin U. S. Bu. Ed., No. 460; Math- 
ematics in Secondary Schools^ Bulletin U. S. Bu. Ed., No. 463. 



CHAPTER XI 
THE SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 

I. The Social Nature of the School 

The school, both in its function and its organization, 
is a social institution. It is the agency selected by so- 
gQj.j^ ciety for the socialization of the individual, 

function of Its curriculum consists of the social culture 
of the past selected and arranged for the 
use of the child. Teachers stand as the representatives 
of society in helping the child to adjust himself to the 
social activities. The organization of the school must 
be such as to further the aim of society in socializing the 
individual. It must embody the social standards and 
ideals, and stand as a type of the wider social organiza- 
tion of which the school is a part. The problem of the 
organization of the school therefore involves the prin- 
ciples of social organization in general. 

The school is in fact a miniature society. It possesses 
social coherence, and is united by social bonds the same 
as society in its broader organization. The 
a social unit. activities of the school present many situa- 
tions typical in the activities outside. The 
demand upon the individual for the subordination of 
personal preferences and desires with reference to the 
common good is insistent. Emulation and competition 
and the opportunity to measure the self by social stand- 

291 



292 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

ards are always present. Labor is demanded and social 
penalties are inflicted for laziness or low-grade achieve- 
ment. Success is rewarded by the approval of pubKc 
opinion and the elevation of the efficient to positions 
of leadership. Misdemeanors are punished by social 
depreciation and by the application of the social law 
covering the offence. 

Nor is the school's social organization something 
forced upon it from without in violation of its own 
N tu f th nature. The principle of its orga,nization 
school lies deep in the inner nature of the school 

determines its jtself; that is to say, in the nature of the 

organization. ., i - ■, i i ^^ i . 

pupils who constitute the school. Both in 
his original nature and in his experience the child is 
social. In his activities outside the school the individual 
is vitally in touch with social stimuli, and constantly in- 
volved in social situations that demand a response of 
adjustment, effort, and co-operation. The school, at 
its best, not only presents social situations of the same 
type as those outside, but is organized and controlled 
with particular reference to emphasizing the most funda- 
mental and significant social stimuli as motives to ad- 
justment and control on the part of the individual. The 
inner law of the organization of the school is therefore 
but the law of the organization of society; and what- 
ever modifications are necessary to adapt this broader 
law to the school are but changes in its administration 
and not in its spirit. The great problem in the organi- 
zation of the school, therefore, is to make it present in all 
its complex activities the situations that are typical of the 
social situations common to the experience of the child. 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 293 



II. The Social Spirit of the School 

No more important factor exists with reference to the 
organization of the school than that of the spirit or at- 
titude of the pupils toward the school. For 
the^chooi. upon this depends in large degree the suc- 
cess of the school both in its social and in 
its intellectual organization. How do pupils look upon 
the school: as an opportunity or an imposition? What 
interest do they feel in its organization and activities? 
In how far is the school their school, and not the teacher's 
or the district's school? Are the interests of the school 
identical with the interests of the pupils, or are there 
two sets of interests here, which, if not antagonistic, are 
at least not identical? Is the school something rather 
foreign to the most vital interests and activities of the 
child, a phase of experience that must perforce be ac- 
cepted but not valued as a present mode of experience? 

It is significant that these questions do not ordinarily 
arise in the mind of the child with reference to the 
A negative home, nor in the mind of the adult with 
attitude often reference to the state. These institutions 
^^^^ ^' are accepted as a natural and necessary 

part of experience, and no divorcement of interests is 
felt in connection with their activities. It is to be feared 
that this cannot be claimed for the school. The same 
feeling of the unity of aim and spirit does not exist be- 
tween the child and the school that holds for the home. 
Too often the school is looked upon by the pupils as an 
institution rather forced upon them, and not having any 
particular claim on their loyalty and appreciation. The 
school often seems to the pupil to have its own aims, 



294 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

standards, and standpoints, which must in some degree 
be conformed to, but which are, nevertheless, not the 
aims, standards, and standpoints of the pupils. It is 
evident that this situation, in so far as it exists, tends 
to create a constant condition of strain between the 
pupil and the school organization. 

It is true that this lack of identity of interests be- 
tween the school and the child is not formulated in any- 
complete and positive way by the pupils 
co-operation. themselves. In so far as such a breach ex- 
ists, it is more a matter of negative spirit, 
or of indifferent attitude, than of calculated opposition 
or open rebellion. ■ The teacher is looked upon as pos- 
sessing certain authority, and as being, within reason- 
able limits, justified in using it; but at the same time, 
teachers in their role as governor and administrator are 
quite commonly looked upon as natural enemies of the 
pupils, and any advantage that may be taken of them 
is legitimate in the code of many schools. If misde- 
meanors are committed, it is the business of the teacher 
to discover the culprits, who are counted to have scored 
one on the teacher if they escape detection. If lessons 
are poorly prepared and the teacher does not discover 
the delinquency, so much the worse for the teacher; the 
responsibility is his. Growing out of this attitude a bar- 
rier has frequently arisen between teacher and pupils 
in their school relations, which prevents the full identi- 
fication of interests and the complete response of sym- 
pathy and co-operation necessary to the best results in 
education. 

Undoubtedly this attitude, wherever it exists, is a 
source of great educational waste. It gives the child a 
wrong impression of the school and of the value of its 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 295 

activities. Instead of looking on the school as an op- 
portunity for vital and fruitful experience, it is to the 
Waste through child a place where so much of effort and 
lack of so many tasks are to be exchanged for a cer- 

co-operation. ^^-^^ number of passing marks, promotions, 
and diplomas. This cannot but result in a failure to bring 
all the powers of the individual into action, and hence 
is a hindrance to development. It also tends to create 
a feeling of indifference to the subject-matter of the 
curriculum, and leaves the child without incentive to 
continue his education. 

It would seem that the school should claim the pupil's 
deepest affection and fullest loyalty. It should appeal 
Why lack ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^ school in the same sense that 

of loyalty his home appeals to him as his home. The 

to t e sc 00 welfare and good name of the school should 
be second in the child's regard only to the welfare and 
good name of his home. Why is such not more often 
the case? How does this negative attitude arise? 

Whether we succeed in answering this question or not, 
one thing is certain from the start: the fault does not 
The fault ^^ primarily with the child. His very nat- 

not in the ure leads to loyalty and responsiveness, and 

^ ' these qualities will attach to the school 

when the school is able to claim them. The adults or- 
ganize the school and determine its policy and manage- 
ment; whatever lack of responsiveness there exists on 
the part of the pupils must be looked for in the organi- 
zation of the school, and not in the nature of the child. 
Attitudes do not arise by chance; they grow from a suc- 
cession of experiences, and take their color and quality 
from the series of concrete situations in which they have 
their origin. If we should find the children of a nation 



296 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

deficient in respect and loyalty for their homes, we should 
be justified in concluding that the home experience of 
these children was lacking in certain qualities; similarly, 
when we find children deficient in responsiveness to their 
schools, we must seek the explanation in the type of 
experience afforded by the school. 

What is to be found in the organization of the school 

to explain this seeming defection on the part of many 

pupils? One of the two factors affording 

which the the explanation has already been discussed ; 

school is namely, the content and organization of the 

responsible. . •" o-i, j- • v • i 

curriculum. Ine disciplmary curriculum, 
possessing formal instead of social content, is divorced 
from the interests and activities of the child, and hence 
his school tasks have little relation to real experience. 
When this curriculum is organized from the logical point 
of view instead of from the psychological, it is still fur- 
ther separated from the life of the child. This situation 
makes it necessary, or at least easy, for the child to con- 
ceive two related, but more or less antagonistic, orders : 
the interests and activities of his own concrete experi- 
ence and the activities demanded by the school. This 
divorcement in the intellectual organization of the school 
is being remedied by the modification of the curriculum 
in its content and organization as already shown. These 
changes in the curriculum have already gone far enough 
to warrant the statement that they are responsible for a 
marked improvement in the spirit of the school in many 
instances. 

The second of the factors upon which the spirit of co- 
operation on the part of the pupils depends is the social 
organization of the school. By social organization is 
meant the organization of the activities and relation- 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 297 

ships by which the work of the curriculum is carried 
out. This will include all phases of the machinery of 
the school, such as classes, grades, and the various mat- 
ters of routine, and, in addition, the relations between 
the pupils with each other in the prosecution of their 
work and also between teachers and pupils. These 
questions may now be viewed somewhat more in detail. 

///. The Organization of the Elementary School 

One of the chief desiderata in the education of the 
child is to provide conditions favoring a continuous and 
„, , , unbroken line of experience. There should 

The school to , t rr • i i 

continue be no tangents or split-on particles that 

®^p®"®^^® ^^ become divorced from the main body of 
experience. This principle requires that, 
just as in the intellectual organization of the curriculum 
the child is to be started at the nearest point of con- 
tact with his home and community activities, so in the 
social organization of the school the highest type of 
home and community conditions are to be simulated. 
The school should not appear as a foreign element in 
the life of the child, but as an integral part of a devel- 
oping experience. 

A primary requisite in giving the school organization 
a home atmosphere is to give it a home appearance on 
Material ^^^ material side. It is true that our 

equipment school-houscs, especially in the cities, are 

of the school, ^^^j^g reasonably well built, both from the 
practical and the architectural standpoint. Yet the 
rooms, when they are finished and furnished, have a 
strangely stiff, barren, and uninteresting appearance. 
Usually the floor space is well occupied with unshapely 



298 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

desks fastened in parallel rows to the floor. The walls 
may be well tinted and adorned with good pictures, 
but the entire effect of the room is far from being that 
of a place to live. If it is said that the school-room is 
not a living-room, but a workshop, then we must an- 
swer that the typica school-room does not look even like 
a workshop, but only like a place to sit in rows while 
one reads books. 

The problem is rendered all the more serious by the 
fact that in many schools, especially outside the cities, 
Poor buildings ^^^ buildings are poor, and Httle atten- 
and fur- tion is given to making the rooms attrac- 

ms ings. ^-^^ rpj^^ desks are often scarred and 

dirty, and the floors not well kept; the walls harshly 
tinted or soiled and discolored, and decorations either 
lacking or not in good taste. To say that many chil- 
dren find conditions better in the school than they are 
accustomed to in their homes does not answer the ques- 
tion. Society should in its schools set standards and 
inculcate ideals that are measured by the best of its 
membership, and not by the worst. It is one of the 
anomalies, explained only by the fact of social inertia, 
that so many parents who surround their children with 
an environment of taste and artistic excellence in the 
home are wilhng to have them spend almost half of 
their time during the formative period of their lives in 
surroundings lacking most of the quahties that make 
the home attractive. 

School Tradition is an important element in de- 

equipment termining the type of our school-rooms and 

ags e in . equipment. Our schools originated in a 
time of poverty and forced economy. There was no 
money to equip the school better than was done, and 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 299 

indeed the school was as well furnished as the home. 
Further, under the older concept of education, there 
was little need for equipment other than desks, since 
the study of books constituted the sole function of the 
school. We have greatly changed our concepts of edu- 
cation, but have not fully kept pace in supplying the 
means for their realization. 

One of the first steps necessary in changing the atmos- 
phere of the school to a freer social atmosphere is to re- 
Toomany ^^^^ ^^^ number of pupils assigned to a 

pupils to teacher and to a school-room. A group of 

t eteac er. forty children cannot constitute a family 
and would only degenerate into a mob if given the same 
degree of freedom as in the home. Here we at once 
encounter the question of the economic basis of our 
schools. A society cannot put more than a fair pro- 
portion of its wealth into the education of its young. 
There are numerous lines of economic expenditure ab- 
solutely demanded of society in addition to that of edu- 
cation. The resources of the country must be devel- 
oped and its industries extended; a system of national 
defence must be provided; government must be sup- 
ported; homes and churches must be maintained, and 
many other lines of activity carried out. 

It may well be seriously questioned, however, whether 
America is putting a large enough proportion of her 
wealth into education. It is at least cer- 
support?^ tain that, instead of increasing the propor- 

tion, as might be expected of a highly in- 
telligent democratic society, we are actually expending 
a smaller proportion of our wealth on education than we 
were a generation ago, and far less than in the earlier 
stages of our history. A people that expends twice as 



300 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

much for its tobacco as for the current expenses of pub- 
lic education can hardly be said to be draining the public 
purse for its schools. 

The large number of pupils assigned to each teacher 
also seems to necessitate a more or less rigid division 
Limitations ^^^^ classcs and grades. Not only are 
imposed by forty children too many for a true family, 
rigid gra mg. |^^^ ^-^^^ ^^^ ^^j^^ ^^^ many for a good 

working group; hence they must be taught largely in 
mass. There is no special reason, except that of eco- 
nomic expediency, why pupils should follow each other 
through the curriculum just a year, or even half a year, 
apart. Likewise, the same reason must be invoked to 
explain why a child who can do a certain section of work 
in three months should be kept upon it four and a half 
months because that is the speed of the average of his 
class; or, on the other hand, why one who requires six 
months for it should be passed over it in the regular 
time. 

It is true that mental measurements have shown that 
a very large proportion of children fall within reasonably 
narrow limits of school ability. It is not to be forgot- 
ten, however, that these measures were made upon chil- 
dren who had already been subjected to the levelling 
process of general class instruction. It is also probable 
that in not adequately caring for the interests of the 
exceptionally able child an occasional genius and not a 
few persons of high-grade ability are lost to society. 

The disadvantages coming from the close 

limitations. grading and formation of classes rendered 

almost necessary by the large number of 

pupils taught by one teacher are accompanied by 

other disadvantages connected with the preservation 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 301 

of order and quiet in the room. The highly desirable 
freedom and spontaneity that would be suitable in a 
small group of children would rapidly become riot and 
disorder in a room full. The spirit of the crowd takes 
hold in the larger group, and renders restraints more 
necessary and harder to apply. Thus the problem of 
control with reference to movements and acts perfectly 
harmless in themselves, but constituting an offence 
against school regulations necessary because of the 
number of pupils, becomes one of the chief sources 
of difficulty in many schools The result is not only 
a condition of strain between teacher and pupils, but 
a Hmitation upon the pupils which becomes irksome, 
if not finally a menace, to physical health and devel- 
opment. 

The massing of children together in large numbefs 
under one teacher also Hmits the opportunities for group 
,, . and co-operative work. Many of the school 

prevents activities could be carried on to good ad- 

co-operative vantage by small groups working together 
under the suggestion of the teacher and 
without the formal restraints necessary with the larger 
numbers. Such is the case with the handicrafts, geogra- 
phy, and various lines of concrete elementary science, 
drawing, and other subjects. In schools where agricult- 
ure and gardening are taught, it is highly desirable to 
secure co-operative participation by the pupils. Such 
co-operation is necessary not only from the standpoint 
of administering the course, but also as a counterbal- 
ance against the strongly individuahstic influence of 
text-book work in the training of the child. For the 
spirit of co-operation, the give and take required in all 
lines of social activity is best developed through exer- 



302 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

cising these very qualities in the real stress of actual 
experience. 

Few factors are more influential in shaping the atti- 
tude of the pupils toward the school than the spirit 
shown toward it by their parents and 

community! ^^'^^^^ ^^ ^^^ Community. The child im- 
itates his standards quite as readily as his 
manners. Thoughtless, irrelevant, and half-meant crit- 
icism of the school has a tendency to undermine the 
child's confidence in it, and hence to weaken his loyalty 
toward it. The efficiency of the elementary school in 
particular could be immensely increased by the sym- 
pathetic co-operation of the patrons. One of the prob- 
lems in the organization of the school is, therefore, to 
secure co-operation. It is not enough to say that the 
parents should have enough interest in the school to 
offer their full co-operation without further incentive 
than the welfare of their children. Social problems 
must be taken as they are found; and the fact is that 
patrons have very little knowledge of, or touch with, 
the schools. 

But this seeming lack of interest on the part of par- 
ents must not be misinterpreted. The American people 
Lack of deeply beheve, at least in theory, in the 

interest only valuc of education. The chief difficulty 
apparent. |^^g been that, under the older concept of 

education, the work of the school seemed so far divorced 
from the interests of the home and the shop or the store, 
that there was little point of contact between the ex- 
perience of the parent and what was going on in the 
school. The consequence was that parents did not feel 
that they understood fully the activities of the school 
or were competent to judge them. They believed that 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 303 

it was worth while to educate the child in what the 
school offered, but concerning the process of education 
going on in the school they felt themselves unable to 
understand or advise. 

Since the introduction of studies more closely related 
to the social activities, this attitude on the part of the 
Influence of patrons of the schools has been rapidly dis- 
the social appearing. It has been found that par- 

concept. ^^^^ freely come to the school to inspect 

the work done in manual training, domestic science, 
agriculture, and allied lines. Here are fields close 
enough to the actual affairs in which parents are 
themselves engaged to make them feel interested in the 
subjects. Moreover, parents know enough about these 
fields to be able to judge the efficiency of the work 
being done in them. 

A further step lies just ahead in the social organiza- 
tion of the elementary school ; this is to make the school 
The school as ^^^ social and intellectual centre for the 
a community patronizing Community. This problem is 
^^^ ^^' already well toward solution in several of 

the larger cities of the country, notably in New York. 
Thousands of smaller cities and towns and rural com- 
munities have not yet discovered the advantage of mak- 
ing the school building the neighborhood centre. It is 
not too much to believe that the school-house of the 
future will have an audience room capable of seating 
several hundred people, and one or more reception-rooms 
for social purposes in addition to the regular equipment 
of shops, laboratories, reading-rooms, gymnasiums, and 
the like. When the patrons go to the school-house as a 
matter of course for their clubs and societies, for their 
lectures and entertainments, and occasionally for their 



304 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

social functions, the problem of the divorcement of the 
school from the home and community spirit will be well 
toward settlement. 

And what is more natural than that the centre for 
the education of the young should also be the centre 
for continuing the education of the elders. On the 
other hand, what is farther from a wise educational 
policy on the part of society than to make a large and 
permanent investment in buildings and equipment for 
educational purposes, and then lock them up for eigh- 
teen hours out of every day during three-quarters of the 
year and all the time during the remainder of the year? 
That the type of school buildings would need to be mod- 
ified somewhat to meet this wider sphere of usefulness 
is true, as has already been suggested, but the educa- 
tional benefits would be out of all proportion to the 
additional cost. 

The wider concept of the social organization of the 
school has already resulted in offering the advantage of 
Extension of ^^^ school in the evening to those who are 
the functions obliged to work during the day, but who 
of the school. ^ggjj.^ ^Q continue their education. The 

evening school has become a regular part of the educa- 
tional system in most of the larger cities, and will no 
doubt be extended as occasion requires. A more re- 
cent line of extension has been in the direction of va- 
cation schools. While these schools differ much in the 
character of the work offered during the summer months, 
one general principle seems to underHe their aim; namely, 
to afford the child an opportunity for the pursuit of in- 
teresting and profitable lines of study not available in 
connection with the pupil's work of the regular year. 
This work constitutes, therefore, a change, and much 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 305 

of it a recreation. Prominent among the vacation sub- 
jects are the various handicrafts, domestic science, art, 
nature study, and physical training. These schools have 
been enthusiastically received both by pupils and pa- 
trons, and bid fair to become an integral part of our 
educational system. 

IV. The Organization of the High School 

The problems of high-school organization are identical 
at many points with the problems of organization pre- 
sented by the elementary school. In both 
common^to instances it is to be remembered that the 
elementary school, while it cxists for the ultimate pur- 
school.^ P^^^ ^^ preparing children for social effi- 
ciency as adults, must primarily exist for 
the child as he lives to-day's life here and now. That 
is to say, the only way to prepare for ultimate efhciency 
is to make sure that the individual lives efficiently in the 
present. True, this present is never to be understood 
as complete in itself, but always in the light of what it 
is moving toward; the interests and attitudes of the 
child are never an end in themselves, but are to be in- 
terpreted as related to a final outcome in experience. 
Giving the present this broader meaning, then, we may 
say that the basis of the social organization of both 
elementary and high school is the present social inter- 
ests and activities of the pupils. This is the point of 
contact between the individual and the school as a so- 
cial organization. 

We are often told that education is ''preparation for 
life." Education is life. The only preparation for life 
is life itself; the only way to learn a thing is to five it. 



306 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

Youth is not primarily interested in preparing for life, but 
in living. If any form of school organization or activ- 
Both related ^^^ ^^ ^^ receive a full response, therefore, 
to immediate it must itself represent vital experience, 
needs of pup' s. ^^^ ^^^ relate itself to some remote end. 

Applying these generaHzations to our problem, we may 
say, then, that the high school must be organized 
not primarily for prospective men and women, but for 
adolescent boys and girls. Just as we found the funda- 
mental principle for the organization of the elementary 
school in the nature of the child, so we shall find the prin- 
ciple for the organization of the high school in the nature 
of the adolescent youth. 

It is necessary first of all to recognize the fact that 
the high school presents certain very different problems 
from the elementary school. In passing 
between*^Wgh ^^^^ ivom the elementary school to the 
school and high school, the individual also passes over 
sch^oi?*"^ from childhood to youth. Profound phys- 
ical changes take place, and these are ac- 
companied by mental changes and modifications of atti- 
tude no less deep. 

The child of the elementary school, even if found 
occasionally in overt rebellion against authority, is, on 
Adolescent ^^^ whole, under a regime of authority, 
changes in He takes his standards, beliefs, and atti- 
* ^ " ®* tudes ready made, imitating them from his 

elders. He does not pause to question the sanctions for 
right and wrong; for him right is what he is allowed 
to do, and wrong what he is forbidden to do. But with 
adolescence a change comes about; a new consciousness 
of self arises. The youth finds himself able to think, to 
judge for himself. He now subjects the standards, be- 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 307 

Hefs, and attitudes of childhood to examination, and 
makes them his own in a new sense, or rejects them. 
His thinking may be illogical and crude, but he thinks. 
He is no longer a puppet; it is even probable that he 
becomes very arrogant in the new-found freedom of his 
thought. 

The emotional reconstruction of adolescence is per- 
haps even more marked than the intellectual. New 
Changes in emotions arise, not only creating hitherto 
emotional Unknown problems in their own right, but 

atitu es. ^jg^ necessitating a readjustment among 

the complex of emotions already familiar. The new emo- 
tional meaning of the opposite sex begins to define itself, 
and values undreamt of in childhood assert themselves. 
Insistent impulses create new problems of control. The 
fanciful and indistinct ideals of earlier youth begin to 
crystallize into ambitions and plans. The childish no- 
tions concerning desirable vocations are given up and 
the matter of a desirable occupation seriously consid- 
ered. Practical considerations begin to control in a new 
way; activities pursued must not only have a value of 
their own, but must relate to plans for the future. The 
youth begins to reach out for the larger estate which he 
is approaching. 

Accompanying these intellectual and emotional 
changes, the adolescent also imdergoes a great change 
Change in ^^ ^^^ attitude toward authority. As a 

attitude toward child he expected to obey constituted au- 
authonty. thority, just because it was authority. He 

did not question the adaptability of the regulations in 
the home or the school, but conformed to them when he 
was required to, or violated them when he found the 
opportunity. But he did not go so far as to question 



308 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

the sanctions by which this authority was constituted 
and put in control over him. He was a child, and chil- 
dren were expected to obey. 

The attitude of the adolescent is very different. He 

feels himself no longer a child, and bitterly resents being 

treated as one. He feels that he has a 

SdLplndence. ^'^S^^ ^^ ^^^ own judgment in many mat- 
ters, and questions by what right others 
are in authority over him. This attitude often becomes 
exaggerated to the degree that the adolescent youth is 
something of an anarchist, and ready to recognize no 
authority not first fully consented to by himself. It is 
a notable fact that by far the greater proportion of the 
boys and girls who run away from home in rebellion, 
leave during the period of this reconstruction in the at- 
titude toward submission to authority. 

One of the mistakes that may be made in the organi- 
zation of the high school is the failure to recognize the 
difference between it and the elementary school rendered 
necessary by the attitude and spirit of adolescence. 
This is not to say that the whims, the follies, and the 
arrogance of adolescence are to determine the organiza- 
tion of the high school. It is rather to suggest that there 
are certain fundamental facts of human nature and de- 
velopment emerging at this time, which must be taken 
into account if the high school is to relate itself vitally 
to the lives of its pupils. 

The organization of the high school must, 
schoo/must therefore, first of all provide for a large 
provide for mcasurc of sclf-control over conduct. It 
ofpupi?s!^° is not the province of this discussion to 

advise whether this be accomplished by 
means of what is called student government, or other- 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 309 

wise. The movement toward student government has 
not gone far enough in the high school to prove its 
wisdom, and probably will not receive wide acceptance. 
But without this precise form of machinery, the chief 
motives for control of conduct can be found in the pu- 
pils themselves, and be brought to bear on the govern- 
ment of the school. This does not mean that conduct 
in the high school shall be less controlled than now; it 
will be better controlled if the organization is properly 
effected. Adolescent boys and girls have in them the 
requisite quahties o. seriousness and responsiveness to 
social necessity to control their own conduct for the 
common good, when once they see the opportunity and 
the problem. That this is true is being proved in 
many of our best high schools at the present time. 

Not only does the standpoint of school organization 
that places the chief responsibility for control of con- 
Schooi conduct ^^^^ ^n the individual himself tend to 
to be related eliminate a chief source of strain between 
a con uc . teachers and pupils, but it accomplishes 
an even more important thing: it trains the pupil to 
subjective standards of conduct and develops a reflec- 
tive attitude toward ethical problems School experi- 
ence is full of situations involving questions of conduct 
that are typical of questions constantly met in the 
course of social activities outside the school. If the 
individual is led to recognize in each of these situations 
the ethical problem involved, and to assume personal 
responsibility toward it, a most important bond has 
been established between the school and social experi- 
ence. 

Any plan of high-school organization is therefore to 
be condemned that places the responsibility for the 



310 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

pupil's conduct wholly or chiefly on the teacher. Reci- 
tations or examinations must not be so organized and 
conducted as to cause the pupil to feel that 
responsibility there is to be a game of wits played be- 
*°^rf*!i" tween himself and the constituted author- 

ity of the school. If such is the pupil's 
interpretation of the situation, he can bluff or cheat, 
priding himself that he has beaten in the game, and 
have no qualms of conscience; for it was all a part of 
the game. The oversight of an assembly room or a class 
must not be so organized that a premium is placed on 
sharp conduct, trickery, and evasion. The double stand- 
ard of morals growing out of just such situations as these 
constitutes one of the greatest weaknesses of our school 
system. There is all too general a feeling on the part 
of the pupils that immoral acts committed in school are 
of different quality from immoral acts committed out- 
side of school, since school experiences are in some way 
conceived as divorced from the real experience of so- 
ciety. Such a standpoint makes the school, the chosen 
instrument of society for socializing the individual, a 
means of cultivating the habit of shifting moral respon- 
sibility and juggling with ethical values. 

In co-educational high schools, the social relations of 
the sexes creates one of the most difficult and insistent 
problems of organization. It is during the 
of^the sex^^?^^ high-school age that a complete transfor- 
mation takes place in the attitude of the 
sexes toward each other. The old playfellowship and 
comradery of the elementary school has been supplanted 
by an attitude of shyness and diffidence, which, never- 
theless, only masks an irresistible impulsion of each to- 
ward the other, by a law of nature as old as life itself. 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 311 

Thoughts of the other sex occupy an amazingly large 
proportion of the time of adolescent boys and girls. 
They seek each other's company in a social way. Par- 
ties are planned, excursions organized, or social functions - 
projected with a view to being in each other's presence. 
Now, all this is natural and right, but it has a tendency 
to run to excess, if not into undesirable or dangerous 
lines. 

Two types of solution have been attempted in dealing 
with this problem in the school. One is to forbid all 
manifestations of interest in the other sex 
involved.^ in connection with the activities of the 

school and to ignore the existence of the 
social impulse. The other is to recognize the natural- 
ness and inevitableness of the impulses leading to these 
new social relations of the sexes, and provide, through 
the activities of the school, some means for their expres- 
sion and guidance. It is hardly necessary to say that 
the first of these methods does not meet the problem. 
The great dominating impulses of nature are not to be 
suppressed by rules and regulations, and they continue 
to act even if they are ignored or deplored. To take a 
negative attitude toward the social relations of the 
pupils is only to divorce the school still further from the 
problems of social experience. 

A recognition of the part to be played by the social 
impulse in the development of the adolescent will re- 
quire that the organization of the high 
Isoci^ceLtee. ^chool provide for its proper expression. 
If the school, as suggested in the preced- 
ing section, comes to be the accepted intellectual and 
social centre for the entire community, it can naturally 
assume the general direction of social functions of its 



312 SOCIAL PRINCIPLES OF EDUCATION 

pupils arranged under the organization of the school. 
Various high schools throughout the country have al- 
ready undertaken this function with excellent promise 
of success. More or less formal parties, dances, dra- 
matic entertainments, debates, musical entertainments, 
and athletic contests are among the different social 
events carried out. 

One of the first advantages from the oversight exer- 
cised by the high school over the social relations of its 
pupils is to provide clean and suitable en- 

Thepartof ^ ^ . r -- i o-u- 

the school tertamment for its young people. This 

in controlling jg |-]^g gj-g^ g|-gp [j^ defending our youth 

against the insidious evils of the cheap 
theatre and amusement halls of the cities, and against 
the hardly less dangerous monotony of the smaller town. 
A second advantage comes through giving the high 
school better regulative control over social clubs, fra- 
ternities, and sororities which have sprung up within re- 
cent years in the high schools. The social organization 
of the high school must be democratic, and hence can- 
not permit exclusive organizations to gain a foothold. 
The remedy here, as already suggested, is primarily to 
give opportunity for expression of the social impulse in 
more healthful ways, and to suppress the undesirable by 
substituting something better than that which is taken 
away. 

And so we might go on through the various matters of 
relationship between the pupils and the high-school or- 

ganization. But the same principle under- 
of social lies all the problems. The social organiza- 

organization ^[^^ ^f ^^g w^ school, like its intellectual 

of high school. . . r ^ . , 

orgamzation m the curriculum, must start 
from the fundamental nature of adolescence and pro- 



SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE SCHOOL 313 

ceed toward social efficiency as its aim. Social and eth- 
ical judgments later to be demanded must have their 
prototype in the life of the school. The honesty and 
fairness required in all social relations outside the school 
must be demanded and grounded by school problem.s 
and situations. The subjective sanctions for conduct 
necessary to personal freedom must find stimulus and 
encouragement in the school. In short, the high school 
in its organization must present, not a section of experi- 
ence isolated and cut off from the remainder of present 
or prospective experience, but must itself constitute an 
integral and vital part of a growing experience that 
leads without break immediately out into concrete and 
efficient social participation. 



REFERENCES 

Brown, Our National Ideals in Education; Button and Snedden, 
Administration of Public Education in the United States; Gilbert, 
The School and Its Life; Hanus, A Modern School; Suzzalo, The 
School as a Social histitution; Tompkins, School Management; 
Young, Isolation in the School. 



INDEX 



Activity and development, 199. 

Adolescence: Changes in attitude, 
307; determining high-school 
organization, 306. 

Aim: Disciplinary in education, 
243; educational, 32, 42, 99; 
and social eflSciency, 243; ex- 
perience as a criterion of, 37; 
nature of, 32; and social progress, 
35; guiding the social process, 43 ; 
man's search for, 34. 

America: Factors in development 
of, 223; materialism in, 224; 
technological education in, 106. 

Arithmetic : In elementary schools, 
261; social content of, 262. 

Art in elementary schools, 267. 

Artist, the: As an educator, 112; 
the work of, in. 

Attention: And development, 179; 
and interest, 180. 

Attitude: Importance of, 240; to- 
ward school, 241. 

Automatism, tendency toward, 
179. 

Avocations: Classes of, 120; inci- 
dental, 127; mental, 123; place 
of in education, 114; physical, 
121; rise of in society, 114; the 
school and, 129. 

Bond, the social: Function of the 
social, 10; nature of the social, 
II, 24. 

Business: Training for, 103; prob- 
lem of vocations, 102; as a voca- 
tion, lOI. 

Capacities: For control, 162; for 
impression, 135; for interpre- 
tation, 148. 



Change: And progress, 33; uni- 
versality of, 32. 

Child, the: In the home, 63; in- 
fancy of, 195; and his parents, 
63; and school, 86. 

Church, the: Crisis in, 77; and 
education, 74; function of, 73; 
social nature of, 71; social pro- 
gramme of, 72; and religious 
education, 77. 

Citizenship and education, 83. 

Colleges: Business, 104; entrance 
requirements, 253, 269, 

Community, the: Recent changes 
in, 69; and the child, 67; duties 
of, 70; and the school, 92; school 
as centre of , 303 ; spirit of, 302. 

Conscience, awakening of, 85. 

Control: Direction of, 165; over 
environment, 184; measure of 
education, 164; mental, 176; 
physical, 166; powers of, 162; 
self-control in high school, 308; 
social, 188; sources of, 164. 

Culture: As an aim in education, 
243; social nature of, 231. 

Curriculum, the: Changes in, 260; 
content of, 247; diagram of, 
opp. 287; the old disciplinary, 
260; of elementary school, 261; 
factors determining, 249; func- 
tion of, 231, 234; for girls, 276; 
of high school, 268; organiza- 
tion of, 279, 289; social origin of, 
231. 

Death, place of in progress, 27. 
Democracy: Foes of, 83; nature 

of, 83. 
Development: And control, 163; 

and environment, 136; and imi- 



315 



316 



INDEX 



tation, 209; of the individual, 
23; and language, 216; laws of, 
199; nature of, 192; and sug- 
gestion, 213, 

Discipline: As an aim in education, 
243, 275; in arithmetic, 261; in 
the elementary-school curricu- 
lum, 260; in grammar, 263; in 
the high-school curriculum, 268. 

Divorce of parents and children, 
65. 



Ear, sensory limitations of, 138. 

Economic necessity: As a social 
bond, 11; as a stimulus, 15. 

Education: Aim in, 32; as a selec- 
tive agent, 41; and the artist, 
112; business, 103; and the 
church, 74; and the community, 
67; definition of, 44, 164; as 
discipline, 243 ; unorganized fac- 
tors of, 43, 226; function of, 137; 
and home, 60; industrial, 99; 
and social institutions, 58; means 
and ends of, 47; and play, 122; 
professional, 109; and the school, 
86; scientific, 107; social,' 21; 
and the state, 79; support of, 83; 
technological, 104; and voca- 
tions, 95; waste in, 88. 

English in the high school, 273. 

Environment: Community, 67; 
control over, 184; and develop- 
ment, 136; home, 59; limited by 
impressions from, 135; physical 
in education, 222; social in edu- 
cation, 225. 

Ethics: Individual basis for, 20, 
182; instinctive basis for, 181; 
social basis for, 182. 

Evolution: Social, and vocations, 
95; as teleology, 33. 

Experience: As a measure of aim, 
37; as a norm, 40; as a process, 
38; as a product, 39; recon- 
struction of as education, 46, 
164; social nature of, 38; vo- 
cations and, 97. 



Expression : And development, 205; 

neglect of in education, 176; 

physical, 171. 
Eye, the sensory limitations of, 

138. 

Family, the: Threefold basis of, 
60; social changes in, 60; and 
the individual, 59, 

Feeling: Classes of, 161; functions 
of, 156; as a mode of interpre- 
tation, 155. 

Finances of the school, 299. 

Geography: In elementary school, 
264; social content of, 264. 

Girls and the high-school curricu- 
lum, 275. 

God, concepts of, 71. 

Grading, limitations by, 300. 

Grammar in elementary schools, 
262. 

Hand, the: As a tool of expression, 

175; education of, 176. 
Handicrafts, the: In elementary 

schools, 266; in high school, 286. 
High school, the: Cuiriculum of, 

267; social organization of, 305. 

Ideals, social, and the curriculum, 
241, 

Imitation: And development, 209; 
social, 19; and suggestion, 213. 

Impression: Capacities for, 135; 
physical, 137; social, 141; types 
of, 136. 

Incentives: Economic, 14; social, 
14, 203. 

Individual, the: Attributes of , 194; 
contributions of, 22, 24; as a 
bearer of social culture, 25; de- 
velopment of, 192; and educa- 
tion, 58; and family, 59; ini- 
tiative of, 20, 57; obligations of, 
30; powers and capacities of, 
133; and progress, 27; and soci- 
et}^ 5, 22; and state, 82. 



INDEX 



317 



Industries: In the home, 6i; im- 
portance of in education, 97; 
training in, 99. 

Infancy, biological meaning of, 195. 

Instinct and development, 207. 

Institutions: Conservation of, 28; 
social divorcement of, 48; and 
education, 92; evolution of, 55; 
social nature of, 56. 

Interest: And attention, 180; as 
a motive, 202. 

Interpretation: Through feeling, 
155; through knowledge, 149; 
powers of, 148. 

Knowledge: Function of, 150; nat- 
ure of, 149; as science, 152. 

Labor: Dignity of, 98; division of, 
99. 

Language: Ancient in high school, 
272; and development, 216; ex- 
pression through, 174; rise of 
impulse, 216; modern in high 
school, 273. 

Latin in high school, 272. 

Leaders, function of, 28. 

Man and his environment, 165. 

Mathematics in the high school, 
272. 

Method, logical versus psycho- 
logical, 281. 

Mind, the: At birth, 177; develop- 
ment of, 177. 

Morality: Individual, 20, 182; in- 
stinctive, 181; levels of, 181; 
social, 21, 182. 

Motives: Economic, 14; emotion 
as a motive, 202; self-realization 
as a motive, 217; social, 203. 

Music in elementary schools, 267. 

Nature, man's control over, 187. 
N. E. A., the influence of, 252. 



Observation, need for training, 140. 



Organization: Of elementary 
school, 297; of high school, 306; 
principles of, 312; social of 
school, 291. 

Pain as a motive, 203. 

Parents: New demands upon, 66; 
divorcement from children, 63. 

Personality: As a model, 144; 
value of, 219. 

Philosophy: .Method of, 2; mean- 
ing and problem of, i; scope 
of, I. 

Physiology : In elementary schools, 
265; social content of, 266. 

Plasticity: And education, 197; as 
a basis for development, 194. 

Play: Classes of, 120; and educa- 
tion, 116; incidental, 127; men- 
tal, 123; necessity for, 115; phys- 
ical, 121; social, 124; spirit of, 
118. 

Pleasure as a motive, 203. 

Powers: Of control, 162; of im- 
pression, 135; of interpretation, 
148; nature of, 44, 133. 

Professions: Education and, no; 
place of, 109. 

Pupil, the: Attitude of, 293; num- 
ber of pupils under teacher, 299. 

Reality: Found in the concrete, 
37; of religion, 71. 

Recreations: Classes of, 120; ne- 
cessity for, 115. 

Religion: And feeling, 160; as a 
social bond, 11. 

Response: And development, 93; 
and stimulus, 193; and sugges- 
tion, 214. 

School, the: Attendance, 188; and 
avocations, 122, 128; buildings 
and equipment, 298; and com- 
munity, 92; as community cen- 
tre, 303,311; demands upon, 91; 
social divorcement of, 48; in- 
creased functions of, 304; and 
the home, 64; as a social insti- 



318 



INDEX 



tution, 90; as an instrument of 
education, 228; social organiza- 
tion of, 292; tests of, 87; waste 
in, 88. 

Science: Contributions of, 107; as 
social control, 153; and educa- 
tion, 109; method of, 282; so- 
cial nature of, 152; and tech- 
nique, 186. 

Selective agent: Education as a, 
42; necessity of, 41. 

Self, the: And its activity, 198, 
201; appreciation of, 220; and 
control, 165; nature of, 167; 
the physical, 167; realization as 
a motive, 217; rise of concept of, 
218. 

Senses, the limitations in range of, 

137- 

Sexes, the social relations of in edu- 
cation, 310. 

Social bond, the: Function of, 10; 
nature of, 11, 24. 

Social efficiency as an aim in edu- 
cation, 245. 

Social process, the: And aim in 
education, 43; analysis of, 52; 
nature of, 51; summary of, 129. 

Society: Organized activities of, 
18; individualistic concept of, 
6; organic concept of, 28; so- 
cialistic concept of, 7; contribu- 
tions of to individual, 13; cri- 
teria of for conduct, 20; deter- 
mining curriculum, 256; as a 
"medium" for development, 13; 
conservative nature of, 28; ob- 
ligations of, 30; stimuli from, 
14, 141, 222. 



Speech and expression, 174. 

State, the: And education, 75; 
functions of, 80; and the indi- 
vidual, 82; nature of, 79. 

Stimulus: And development, 193; 
economic necessity as a, 13; 
language as a, 216; social press- 
ure as a, 14, 143, 221; physical 
environment as a, 137. 

Suggestion: And development, 213; 
and imitation, 213. 

Sunday school, the: And religious 
education, 76; inefficiency of, 77, 

Teaching: As a profession, 89; 
waste in, 89. 

Technique and science, 186. 

Technology: Contributions of, 105; 
and education, 106; place of in 
education, 104. 

Teleology: Nature of, S3) in dif- 
ferent realms, 34. 

Tradition, influence of in curricu- 
lum, 249. 

Utility as an aim in education, 243. 

Values, educational, and aim, 36, 
Vocations: And educational aim, 
99; of the artist, in; the busi- 
ness, loi; industrial, 98; in- 
terrelations of, 96; professional, 
109; and social progress, 95, 97; 
scientific, 107; technological, 104. 

Waste: In education, 88; in life, 
35- 

Youth, its paradoxes, 198. 






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